If things were different
by Annamia
Summary: At the end of Clan of the Cave Bear, Ayla leaves Durc behind with the Clan. But what if she had taken him with her? AU from VoH hopefully to the end of SoS.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: This is an Earth's Children fanfiction story, so it belongs to Jean Auel, not to me. At the end of Clan of the Cave Bear, Ayla leaves Durc behind with the Clan. But what if she had taken him with her?_

_Author's note: This is not written in proper chapters, just in paragraph dividing marks. Sorry that it ends in a weird place.  
_

* * *

If Things were Different  
Kyra

Ayla started at the sound of the scream. She looked at Durc, running along next to her and Whinney. "Did you hear that?" she signed, using the signals of the Clan that she and Durc had grown up with.

The boy nodded. "It came from that cave over there," he gestured back, indicating a small cave just over the hill. Ayla urged Whinney forward, trying to get to the cave as fast as she could. Durc was slower, as he was not mounted, but he still kept up well enough. Durc was the fastest runner Ayla had ever met, much faster than any of the Clan men, and he was only a boy. They reached the cave almost at the same time. Ayla jumped off Whinney and headed towards the cave. Durc slid in beside her as they watched the enormous cave lion drag the two men out into the open. Both Ayla and Durc starred at them. They were the first men of the Others that either had seen, and it was a shame that they were dead. Suddenly, the cave lion roared, and Ayla felt a shiver of recognition course down her spine.

"It's Baby!" she signed excitedly, vocalizing the name in the clipped, guttural sounds of the Clan. Durc nodded, trying not to look relieved. He was as certain as his mother of the lion's identity. He had, after all, grown up with the lion as his only male companion from the walking year onwards.

"I will get Baby," Durc told Ayla. "See to the two men."

Ayla nodded, not bothering to tell her son not to order her around. Though he had long ago made his first kill, much earlier than most boys of the Clan, Ayla still did not like him to tell her what to do. After all, she was older than he and much wiser, so by rights she should be in charge. He didn't seem to mind most of the time, which was probably a testimony to his half-Other background. He went first, striding fearlessly up to the lion. With a sharp sign, the boy ordered the lion away from the men. Baby followed Durc out of the cave, delighted to see the boy. As they played together, Ayla went over to the two men. She dismissed the dark haired one as dead, but caught her breath as she looked at the other. He was still breathing! "Durc!" she called. Her son turned at her call. "This one still breaths!" she gestured excitedly, motioning towards the light-haired man of the Others.

Durc jogged back towards the man, examining him carefully. Then, he nodded. "Can you save him?" he asked Ayla.

"I do not know," she answered. "I don't know if Iza's medicines will work on the Others."

"They worked on you," Durc pointed out. "And you had almost the same injuries as this man."

Unconsciously, Ayla touched the four parallel scars on her left leg. "Yes," she said, using the one-handed signals that Creb, the Mog-ur had used. Durc understood them, though they were much less fluid than most of the Clan signals.

"What about the other?" Durc wondered, motioning towards the dead man. "It wouldn't be right to leave him here without a burial."

Ayla considered for a moment. She looked around, trying to see if there was a place where the dead man could be put. She didn't want to leave him out in the open, but her main priority was the other man, the one who was still alive. Finally, she said, "Get the man who breathes to Whinney. I will bury the other."

Durc frowned. "But you are not Mog-ur. Only a Mog-ur may bury the dead, and no woman can be Mog-ur."

Ayla shrugged. "You are not Mog-ur either, my son," she reminded him. "And I know the sacred signs to say over a body. I watched Creb make them when Iza died, and I made them in turn over Creb's body."

Durc sighed. "You are right. I do not know the signs." He paused. "I will look for some red ochre for the grave." As Ayla nodded, Durc began to manipulate the light-haired man's body out of the cave. Baby, seeing what Durc was doing, went over to help. Ayla smiled to herself as Durc got Baby to carry the limp form outside to Whinney. It was just one more thing about him that was more her than Clan. No one in the Clan would have thought to put a person, especially an injured person, on a cave lion. Of course, no person of the Clan would live with a cave lion either.

She grasped her spear and began to lever rocks off a pile in the corner. Durc had reacted well to her hunting: after all, if she didn't hunt, they wouldn't have had enough to eat. With Ayla, Durc was able to practice hunting in a more traditional manner. They couldn't outrun most beasts, but they were much more capable than if Ayla had been alone. On Whinney, they were even more successful, and the mare was invaluable for bringing the meat home again.

When she had gotten enough rocks out of the way, she used her spear to lever the man into the jagged hole that she had created. Durc had not returned with the red ochre, and she doubted that he'd found any. She hadn't seen any at all in all the time they had lived in the valley. Before she put the rocks back into place, she set her spear against the pile and began to make the ritual signs. Her mind was taken away from the present and she found herself in the cave she'd grown up with, watching Creb make the signs over Iza's body.


	2. Chapter 2

_Creb sprinkled red ochre dust in the trench where Iza would be buried. He made gestures dedicating the trench to Ursus and asking Him to watch over the spirit of the woman who would be laid there until He saw fit to send her back down to inhabit the earth once more. Then, he moved over to where Iza lay. His walk was more difficult than usual, but Ayla didn't see it. Her eyes were riveted on the body of the woman who, until a few hours before, had been the only mother she'd ever known. She wore no wrap, for it wouldn't be needed in the spirit world. Her limbs had been tied into a fetal position with sinew, died the sacred red. Creb –for in this ceremony, harder for him than any other, he was not just The Mog-ur, but also Iza's grieving sibling– made a gesture over her body to protect himself from the spirits that gathered around a dead body. He lowered himself to sit by her empty shell and began to rub red ochre and cave bear fat all over her body._

_Ayla watched him do it, knowing that the ceremony was to ensure that Iza left this world in the same way she had arrived: in the position of babies when they come out of the womb and covered in the blood of their mothers. The fat and ochre salve was the blood of the earth, the true mother of all creatures. She saw how hard it was for Creb to complete this ceremony, though her pain-numbed brain didn't register the fact until much later. Iza had been Creb's sibling, and the closest thing he had ever had to a mate. Her death would leave a hole in their hearth that could never be filled._

_Only when he began to rummage through Iza's things did Ayla wake up slightly. "What are you doing?" she demanded sharply._

_Creb ignored her tone and the curtness of her gestures. He understood. "I'm looking for Iza's bowls and things. The tools she used in this life should be buried with her so that she has the spirit of them in the next world," he told her._

"_I'll get them," Ayla said, pushing him out of the way. She gathered together all the bowls and cups that Iza had used, along with her grinding stones and her eating dishes. Last of all, Ayla picked up the woman's medicine bag. The tears threatened once more as she held the otter-skin pouch, but she was too numb for them to get father than her eyes. She deposited the items on Iza's bed, and looked at them. It didn't look right, she realized. Something vital was missing. Suddenly, she realized what it was, and was angry with them all for not seeing it. _

"_These are not Iza's tools!" she said angrily, and, seeing that Creb didn't understand, jumped up and ran out of the cave. Once outside, she ran until she crossed the stream and found the place where she and Iza had gathered herbs together so many times before. She began to pick herbs and flowers, all the plants that Iza had showed her and taught her how to use. She ran through the meadow and the woods, picking more of the plants that Iza had used to make her healing magic. Soon, she had too many to carry without her collecting basket. She was crying again, and knew that she wouldn't stop soon. Creb would think that her eyes were weak, and ask Uba to put medicine in them. Uba would do it, and it wouldn't help. She dropped a blossom and stooped to pick it up. As she did so, the position of her arms shifted and the whole bundle tumbled to the ground. Ayla looked at the pile of plants, wondering how she would ever manage to get them all back to the cave. As she looked around for some kind of basket, her eyes fell on the tangled branches of a woody horsetail. She looked at it and almost smiled as an idea came to her. Swiftly, she cut a branch from the plant and began to twine the flowers she had collected in it, weaving them until the whole branch was covered in flowers._

_She marched back to the cave and, ignoring the stares of the other members of the clan, laid the branch by Iza. "_These_ were Iza's tools," she said defiantly, and no one doubted it. Creb nodded, and Ayla could see that he understood, if not the meaning of the flowers, then the sentiment behind them. The rest of the tools were arranged with the body as well, though no one moved the branch of flowers. Once all her things were arranged around her, the clan began to pile rocks around and over her body. Creb began to make the signs that would deliver her to Ursus, but Ayla stopped them again. _

"_Wait! I forgot something!" she ran back to the hearth and took out the two pieces of the broken medicine bowl. She came back and put the two halves in the grave, one on each side of Iza's body. "I thought she might want to take it with her, now that it can't be used anymore," she explained. Creb nodded approvingly and began the ceremonial gestures again. Ayla watched him, not noticing that she was carefully memorizing the gestures._

She finished making the signs over the man of the Others' body. She wished she had time to make a fire to purify his body, but Durc was already calling her name, and she didn't think Baby wanted a fire inside his cave. Instead, she covered the dead man with the stones she had dislodged and walked out of the cave. The injured man was moaning, and Ayla wasn't sure if that was good or bad. If he was regaining consciousness, then he had a much better chance of surviving, but he would also be in more and more pain.

"Should he be waking up?" Durc asked. Ayla was sparred the need to answer by the sound of the light-haired man's slightly more relaxed breathing. He had lapsed back into unconsciousness. Quickly, she wrapped pieces of leather from her medicine bag around the wound, praying that it would be enough to stop him from bleeding to death until they'd reached the cave.

"Help me get him back to the cave," she said. Durc nodded and began to lead Whinney down the path towards the cave all three of them called home. It was slow, and Ayla was sure that the jolting caused unimaginable agony to the wounded man, but there was no other way. By the time they finally reached the cave, she was wincing every time the travois hit a bump or a rock. It was a relief to tell Durc to help her lift him off the travois and onto Ayla's bed. As Durc took care of Whinney, Ayla grasped her amulet. She wasn't sure what to say, but she knew that she would need the cave lion's help to save this man. A moment later, she let go of her amulet and began to examine the man. Though she was examining his wound, she couldn't help noticing the rest of him. His hair was light, like hers, and he had no beard. The absence of facial hair made him look young in Ayla's eyes; in the Clan only boys and very young men had bare faces. She moved over to the fire and piled more wood on it. She filled a leather pot with water and hung it over the flames, waiting for it to boil. When she finally saw steam rise, she added marigold petals. The petals would help clean the wound, and, hopefully, stop it from festering.

She returned to his side and began to attempt to take his clothes off. It was hard as the garments he was wearing were completely unfamiliar to her. She had to get them off, though, because there was no other way she could properly clean the gash and check him for other wounds. She examined it, trying to find the thongs that held it together. She didn't find any, but she saw that the pieces were cut and then lashed together with cords like the Clan did with baskets. She had never seen anything like it! Frowning, she reached over and grasped a flint blade. Durc had made it for her, as he was more skilled than her at the art of creating flint tools. She brushed the two hanging braids out of her face and, as an afterthought, lashed them securely behind her head with a thong. Then, she bent over the man and began to cut where the pieces had been tied together. She cut through the first, and was amazed to see another layer. Why did he need more than one layer of clothes? And why another layer like this? The second layer was much more colorful, with bits shell and feathers sewn onto it. Ayla frowned, wondering why he wore decorations on his body. Was it like an amulet, or was that just an odd custom of the Others? She cut this one too, and was amazed to find yet _another_ garment. While the colorful one had clothed the top half of his body, this next piece was around his legs. The pieces wrapped around each leg individually and were tied together at the top. Ayla unwrapped her makeshift bandage and looked more closely at the wound. Blood was seeping out of it, and she knew that se had to act fast. She prepared the herbs that she needed and told Durc to apply pressure to the injured leg. He did so, and when she had finished with the herbs, he moved off to gather plants that he thought she might need. Years of living with only Ayla for human company had taught Durc much more about healing herbs than any other Clan male could ever hope to learn.

When the herbs were ready, Ayla washed the wound out and sprinkled it with liquid that would fight off infection. She realigned the torn muscle carefully and held the wound closed. When the muscle was back in its proper position, she let go. To her intense frustration, the wound came open again. She held it closed again, knowing that it wouldn't stay. Wrapping it tightly might work, but the moment she loosened the bandage to allow the rest of the leg to get blood, the wound would just open up again, negating any healing that may have happened. She bit her lower lip, trying to think of a way to keep the wound closed without her having to stay there and hold it shut. Suddenly, she called, "Durc!"

"Yes mama," Durc asked, freeing one arm from the group of herbs he was carefully collecting.

"Please get me the deer tendon."

Wondering at the strange request but knowing better than to question his mother when she worked her healing magic, Durc put down the herbs and fetched the item. Ayla broke the tendon down into long strands, and selected the best tool for the job at hand. None of the tools that she and Durc had made seemed quite right. Finally, she said, "Get me the package of slivers from the corner." Durc ran to get them, and when he returned, Ayla selected the finest, straightest one.

She sponged away the new blood and examined the wound once again, mentally marking the places where she would put her knots. Then, she took the sliver and, sending a quite plea to her totem, bent to her work.

_Disclaimer: Not mine, just Jean Auel's. Be prepared, I'm following JMA as closely as reasonably possible, so this may be fairly long. I'll start a new story when I reach TMH. Thank you for reading._


	3. Chapter 3

Jondalar existed in a world populated by frightening dreams. He relived the cave lion attack over and over again. "Thonolan!" he screamed. "Wait!" But his brother never waited. Jondalar could only watch as the cave lion raked its claws through Thonolan and came towards Jondalar. He screamed as the claws came down on his leg. The cave lion roared as its claws sliced though Jondalar's flesh as though it were the softest leather. Jondalar fell and his world went black. And then, he was back at the mouth of the cave, calling for his brother to wait.

He thought he could feel someone beside him, but he didn't know the difference between reality and delirium. At one point, he saw a woman with blond hair bending over him, but the next moment the woman had faded, replaced by Thonolan's serious face. He hadn't truly smiled since Jetamio died. He was saying something, but the roaring in Jondalar's ears wouldn't quiet enough to allow him to hear what his younger brother was saying. He kept asking Thonolan to repeat himself, but whenever Thonolan raised his voice, the sound in Jondalar's head grew louder.

Finally, after drifting forever in a world of spirits and dreams, Jondalar saw the woman he'd seen earlier. She was standing next to a horse and murmuring quiet words to comfort the beast. Another figure stood near them, but Jondalar couldn't see him clearly. The horse appeared to be giving birth, and the woman was apparently helping it. As the head of the foal appeared, the shadowed figure moved forwards, easing the baby horse out of its mother. Jondalar saw that the figure was that of a child, and that the child didn't look like a child should, but in his semi-conscious state, Jondalar couldn't identify why this child was different.

The foal was completely out of the mother, and she bent to lick its head. As he watched the spectacle, Jondalar though, 'That's the first time I've ever seen anyone midwife a horse.' He must have spoken out loud, or the woman and child were donii who could hear his thoughts, because both of them turned towards him in surprise. He struggled to prop himself up on one elbow and studied the two people sharing the cave with him. The woman was trying to stare at him without being obvious. When she felt his eyes on her, she turned red and looked down at the ground. Jondalar wondered what he'd done to offend her. Then, his attention turned to the child, and he realized why the child had seemed odd. It was a child of mixed spirits, a half-flathead abomination! He shuddered and tried to scoot back, away from the creature, but he was brought up short by a fiery shot of pain that passed all the way though him. He tried to retain the groan, but it escaped him anyway.

The sound made the woman look up, though she refused to meet his eyes. She glanced at the fire that was burning in the hearth and waved an arm. The abomination-child moved over to the hearth and returned with a cup of liquid. The woman took it from the abomination-child. She moved closer to Jondalar, offering him the cup. When it became obvious that he wouldn't take it, she tilted his head back and fed him the liquid in small drops. He grimaced at the bitter taste of willow bark, but recognized it as a pain-reliever. The relief that it brought wasn't much, but every little bit helped.

The abomination-child had stayed by the hearth. Now, he dipped something out of another leather pot. Jondalar smelled the broth and realized how hungry he was. The woman fed it to him in the same manner as the willow bark tea, and he began to feel slightly more human. With the refreshment of food and the slight numbing effect of the willow bark, however, he was able to bring his mind to his physical circumstances. He was in a cave, but he'd expected that. He looked around, trying to see the form of his brother. There was another bed-like thing next to his, but it was empty. The woman who had fed him the broth and the abomination-child were both watching him, though the abomination-child was staring much more directly than the woman. But his brother was nowhere in sight.

"Thonolan!" Jondalar shouted. "Thonolan!" Both the woman and the abomination-child looked shocked, but Jondalar didn't care. He grabbed the woman's arm and gripped it. "Where's my brother?" he shouted. "Where is Thonolan?" The woman didn't answer, and neither did the abomination-child. The woman's eyes, which Jondalar was seeing for the first time, were filled with compassion and sorrow. Jondalar let go of her arm, knowing what he hadn't been able to accept until then. He began to sob, his shoulders heaving with the force of his grief. The movement sent pain all through his body, but pain in his soul was much stronger. He found himself in the woman's arms, and she was rocking him back and forth, crying with him. He kept crying out his brother's name, more and more softly until it was only a broken whisper. "Why did you have to go on?" Jondalar whispered. "Oh Thonolan… why did you have to keep going? Why did you leave me? You were the only one that I could ever love! Why did you have to take him, Doni?"

He had no way of knowing that the woman who was holding him had gone through grief just as intense. Ayla had lost the only mother she'd ever known, and then the only father. She'd been exiled from her people twice, and had almost lost her son as many times. She understood grief and, though she didn't know what the man kept repeating, she knew what was going on in his heart. She continued to rock him, crooning the tuneless monotone that she had used to put both Uba and Durc to sleep. And soon, her tears were for her own losses, not those of the strange man. She cried for Iza, and for Creb. She cried for the mother she had never known, and for the people who would think her dead. She wept for the Clan, the people she loved and would never see again. She even wept for Broud. Later, she would wonder what had brought her to do such a thing, but in that moment, she saw him only as a fellow creature who would one day die and whom no one but the members of his small clan would remember. She cried for the Mog-urs at the Clan Gathering, who could only see the past, and not the future. She cried for herself as well, cried for the world. She though that, if only she wept enough tears, the world would become a better place and all those she'd lost would be restored and she would be Ayla of the Clan again, not Ayla of No People.

Gradually, Jondalar calmed, though his mind was nowhere near rational. He saw the world in two parts: the parts that had come, where Thonolan was still alive, and those yet to come, when he would never be there with Jondalar again. As his racking sobs quieted, he remembered specific incidents from his life with his brother. There was Thonolan's birth, when everyone knew instantly that he would be blessed by Her. There were the countless episodes from their childhood, too many to remember individually, yet which Jondalar seemed in that moment to remember perfectly. There were the recent times as well, the countless incidents from their Journey. When he was finally calm, the woman helped him sit up and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, picked up the forgotten bowl of broth and resumed feeding it to him.

* * *

Durc watched his mother feed the man of the Others. He didn't like the man, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to stay long. Ayla had been busy tending to Whinney, but Durc hadn't missed the flash of revulsion that had showed in the man's eyes when he saw Durc. Durc hadn't seen that in so long that he'd almost forgotten what that look was like, but seeing it in the man's eyes brought back many memories for the boy, and none of them were pleasant.

As Ayla tended to the man, Durc kept back in the shadows. He didn't want to be seen, didn't want that flash of utter revulsion to show in the man's face again. His mother would be fine, but he, Durc, would be, as always, the outsider. He hated it, and couldn't help resenting the man of the Others fiercely for interrupting the home that he and his mother had created. They weren't always happy, and they weren't always well fed, but they had each other and that was what truly mattered. Durc knew that his mother would go to the ends of the earth to keep him safe, and he would go farther to keep her happy. The arrival of this strange man threatened to destroy her happiness and thus everything Durc lived for.

Durc watched Ayla closely, then, when he knew she wouldn't notice, slipped out of the cave. He wanted nothing more than to just run and never stop, but he contented himself with checking on Whinney and the foal. Ayla had promised Durc that he could name this one himself, and Durc was already thinking of several possible names. Tal, perhaps, or maybe Zurc. He smiled at that last. Maybe it _would_ be Zurc. After all, Ayla _had_ promised him that Whinney's baby could be his. What better way to make his Durc's than to give him a name that resembled his own?

Durc brushed Whinney and the colt down with the teasel, then led them to the stream. As they drank greedily, Durc scanned the ground for flint or firestones out of habit. He'd been skeptical of the firestones at first, but Ayla had long since proved their use. It had been he who had discovered them, but Ayla had recognized their value and taught both him and herself how to use them. It was that day that Durc had truly realized just how special his mother truly was. No one in the Clan would ever have thought of making fire with _stones_! No one would have thought of bringing horses and wolves into the cave either. Both Durc and Ayla had a special bond with the animals, both with Whinney and Baby. Whinney was Ayla's friend, the creature who would do whatever Ayla wanted through love and friendship. Baby, though. Baby was Durc's special playmate. The two had literally grown up together, and at times, Durc thought of Baby more like his sibling than just an animal. It was from Baby that Durc had truly learned to hunt, though Ayla had helped. Baby was a part of the world that they lived in now, and he had shown Durc some of that world's most attractive and dangerous secrets.

Durc grinned again, remembering one of those secrets. He wondered when he would ever have the chance to attract female cave lions to him, and if he would survive the encounter. He knew that he could do it, but he'd never tried to exercise his skill. A cave lioness would only be disappointed to respond to the mating signals only to find that a man had given them, not another lion.

His expression sobered. He'd rather a female lion return his mating calls than a woman of the Others. He hadn't wanted any of the Clan women, and he doubted that any woman of the Others would want him either. After all, he was deformed and should not have been allowed to survive. He'd seen the way the man of the Others had reacted, and he knew that any woman of the Others would almost certainly be the same way.


	4. Chapter 4

Ayla knew that Durc had left the cave, but she was concentrating too hard on the man of the Others to pay her son much attention. He would take care of Whinney and the colt, and use the time that she spent with the man of the Others to get acquainted with the horse that would soon be his. He would be back, and Ayla had enough to do already. The man of the Others was still making his strange sounds, and Ayla was realizing that she knew what they were about. He was asking her questions, she thought, though she didn't know how she knew.

She took the bowl that had contained broth away, and picked up a cup of water. She sank down gracefully, crossing her legs and bowing her head in the proper manner of the Clan. It was a little odd, returning to the customs of the Clan after so long, but the man's arrival had reminded Ayla that she had to make a good impression on this man. She didn't know why he'd been taken to her valley, but it must be for some purpose, and she didn't want him thinking badly of her.

She waited for a few minutes, holding the cup of water and resisting the urge to peek up into his face. Finally, she raised her head slightly, and was surprised to see him looking straight at her, a question in his eyes. Suddenly, she felt ashamed. Of course he wouldn't know what she was trying to tell him! Hadn't Creb told her that, when Iza had first rescued her, she hadn't known how to talk properly? If this man only talked with words, not signs, then how was he supposed to know what she meant? And if she only talked with signs, not words, then how was she supposed to understand him?

Bravely, she raised her head complexly, looking directly into his eyes. She held up the cup of water, trying to make him take it. He understood what she was trying to say, and he took the cup with another of his words. Ayla listened to those words, and suddenly realized what the spirit of the Cave Lion had been trying to tell her. When he'd finished, she took the cup back from him, and used washing it out and putting it away as an excuse to get farther away from him. After she'd cleaned the cup, she grasped her amulet briefly, composing her thoughts. Then, she lowered herself again, sitting in the proper position from which to address the spirits, and began.

"Spirit if the great Cave Lion, this woman would thank you for bringing the man of the others to her. Though she was happy to have her son and her friends the horse Whinney and the lion Baby, the arrival of this man has made this woman realize how much she wished for company of other people.

"This woman would thank you, great Cave Lion, for giving her this gift, and this woman hopes that she is worthy to receive this gift. This woman hopes that she hasn't misinterpreted your gift great Cave Lion, and that you did mean for this woman to learn the words of the Others. This woman is more than willing to learn the words of the Others, but she promises to continue to honor the Clan ways and remember to venerate Ursus and the great Cave Lion.

"This woman's life has not been easy, and she thanks you, great Cave Lion, for always being there for her. She hopes that you will continue to guide her path through this life and beyond, and that you do not abandon her if she goes to live with the Others. This woman promises to be a good woman and obey Clan laws as much as she can, in return for the gift of this man of the Others and his words."

As she blinked her eyes back into focus, she noticed the man of the Others watching her. She flushed, both embarrassed at his scrutiny, and a little annoyed that he'd been watching her appeal to her totem. True, he didn't understand what she was saying, but she still felt very uncomfortable at the thought that someone else had witnessed her promise to the spirit of the cave lion. Even so, she was going to have to forgive him his rudeness and approach him if she ever wanted to be taught to speak.

Jondalar watched the woman closely. What in the name of the Mother was she _doing_? Though she was sitting down, she still seemed to be using her entire body in the silent, dance-like performance that she was giving. Was it some sort of ritual of her people? And who _were_ her people? Jondalar hadn't seen anyone, other than the abomination-child, who couldn't really be counted as a person, in the cave at all. Yet it was stocked well enough to be able to support a large family for quite a while. If she lived alone, why did she need so many supplies?

She came back towards him, looking at her feet and judiciously avoiding all his attempts to meet her gaze. She moved oddly, he noticed, almost as though she was trying to make herself seem shorter than she really was. Why would she do that, he wondered. She wasn't too tall, for a woman, though she was taller than many he'd met during his Journey. She was about Zelandoni's height, Jondalar thought. Quickly, he repressed the thought of Zelandoni. It wouldn't do to bring the past into the present, and him and Zelandoni were _definitely_ past.

Slowly, she looked at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. He was struck by her gaze, almost as though he'd looked into the eyes of the Mother Herself. There was innocence in that gaze, an almost childlike naivety, but there was also knowledge and sorrow. Especially sorrow. Jondalar knew that she'd lost much in her life, and that she would probably lose more. She'd been through grief as intense as his own, and it had made her a stronger person.

Then, she reached up and tapped her chest. She made two sounds, and Jondalar started. The movement sent a sharp pain up his leg, and he winced. Painfully, he dragged his attention back to the woman. She was looking at him expectantly, and obviously waiting for him to repeat the sounds. "Say it again," he said, wondering if she would understand what he wanted. Obviously she did, because she tapped her chest again and repeated the sounds. He frowned, concentrating. "Aaay-lah," he said, trying to form his tongue around the unfamiliar sounds. "Ayla. Is that your name?" She didn't answer, only looked at him expectantly. "What?" Jondalar began, wondering what she wanted. Then, "Oh! You want me to say my own name, don't you?" He tapped his chest, just as she'd done. "Jondalar. Jondalar of the Zelandonii." She shook her head in confusion. Slowly, he said it again. "Jon-da-lar. Jondalar."

She frowned herself, concentrating just as hard as he had. "Duh-da," she said. He shook his head and repeated his name. "Don-da-lah?" she asked, struggling to make the sounds come out. It wasn't particular clear, nor was it accurate, but it was a huge improvement from the last time. Jondalar grinned at her, nodding.

He was about to try and talk to her again, when she made another sound. This one was short and guttural, and it was obviously not addressed to him. She waited a moment, then rose gracefully to her feet. Walking over to the mouth of the cave, she made the sound again, more insistent this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Durc knew that his mother was calling him, but he waned to ignore her. She wanted him to meet the man of the Others, and Durc didn't want to. He felt sure that the man wouldn't want to meet him either, and the session would be painful for both of them. Even so, when Ayla called him a second time, he felt his feet moving out of habit. He'd answered that voice so often that he didn't even think about obeying. He just did.

"Come meet the man of the Others, Dondalah," Ayla told him. She was excited: her signs were hurried and they lacked a touch of the grace that he was used to. "He will teach us the words of the Others!"

Durc sighed. He tried to think of a way to phrase his distaste in a way that wouldn't make him sound like a stubborn child, but he couldn't manage it. Finally, he settled for, "I don't want to speak like the Others, Mama."

Ayla started. "Why not?" she asked. "We are dead to the Clan. We must learn to speak like the Other if we are to get anywhere."

"Why can't we stay here?" Durc demanded. Unconsciously, he'd slipped out of the Clan dialect and into the made up language that they'd perfected without realizing what they were doing.

"We can't, Durc. You must see that," Ayla answered, also going from signs to the mixture of signs and sounds that they used when they were alone. "Before she died, Iza told me to find my own people. If I am to do that, then I must speak their language."

Durc sighed. "But what does that have to do with me?" he asked.

"You are my son. I will not leave you behind, ever," she said. "We will learn together."

Durc shook his head. "No," he said. "I will meet this man, but I won't learn his words. I have no wish to be like the Others. I am still Clan, even if I am dead."

Ayla sighed, knowing that there was no way she could talk her son into learning to speak right away. He would come around soon enough, though. She was sure that he only had to examine the issue a little more closely.

He entered into the cave, blinking slightly as his eyes adjusted to the darker environment. Ayla touched him and said, "Durc." The man –Dondalah?– blinked in shock, and Ayla repeated the name. Dondalah repeated the name, pronouncing it atrociously, of course. Durc sighed, wondering if the man would spend the entire time pronouncing his name wrong.

Then, with prompting from Ayla, the man repeated his own name. It wasn't Dondalah, Durc realized, it was Dzyondalar. Or at least, it was almost Dzyondalar. He thought about repeating the name, but he glanced at Dzyondalar's face first. The expression on the man's face made Durc think better of it. Dzyondalar was looking at Durc as though he were a monster again. Durc looked away, knowing that Dzyondalar couldn't wait to get rid of him.

"I must get to know Whinney's colt better," Durc told Ayla, sticking to the proper Clan signs. Ayla nodded, and he left, hardly able to conceal his relief at being out of the cave. At least Whinney and her baby wouldn't look at Durc as thought he were an animal.

Jondalar wondered why Ayla had introduced him to the abomination-child. Surely Ayla didn't think he was intelligent enough to understand what was going on around him, did she? On the other hand, she _was_ apparently good with animals. Maybe that was it. She was trying to train the abomination-child to be a sort of servant.

She was watching him carefully, and he suddenly realized that he was probably supposed to acknowledge that he'd met the abomination-child. But how could he do that? He had no way to communicate with her, and the only word of her language that he knew was her name. And what _was_ her language, anyway? He'd head Ayla and the abomination-child talking, and it sounded almost as though they were talking in animal sounds. What language sounded so much like animal sounds that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference?

Ayla knew that she hadn't gotten her point across. She started to ask him for more words, but a closer look at his face discouraged him. He was exhausted and in pain. She scolded herself mercilessly when she realized this. What kind of Medicine Woman _was_ she, to forget all about a patient just because she was excited? She moved towards the fire, and began making a cup of soothing tea. She was acutely aware of Dondalah –or was it Dzyondalar?– watching her. She was uncomfortable under his gaze, and wished desperately that he would look away from her. In the Clan, a man only looked at a woman that way when she'd done something wrong, or when he wanted to give her the signal. He was in no shape to relieve his needs in her, so she must have done something wrong! She thought about the conversation, and her heart sank. She'd been too forward, too eager. She'd looked him in the face without permission, and she'd actually _told him what to do_!

She looked back down at her tea, fighting the tears that threatened to tumble down. What would he think of her now? Had she just ruined all chances of learning how to talk like him?

Jondalar saw her expression chance from rapturous to embarrassed to devastated in the space of a single instant. He wondered at the change, and started to ask her what was wrong, but remembered that she wouldn't be able to understand him. But why did she look as though she was about to cry? He wondered what exactly he'd done to her. He couldn't think of anything, but he might have unconsciously done something. On his Journey, he'd learned that there were people with totally different customs, and that often, those who'd grown up with said customs didn't take it well when he demonstrated his ignorance.

Finally, he couldn't bear it. "Ayla?" he asked, hoping that this wasn't another breach of custom. "Ayla, I don't know what I did but whatever it was, I'm sorry."

Ayla had to struggle not to look up at him when he started speaking to her. He didn't _sound_ angry, and the quick peaks through her lashes that she allowed herself made her fairly positive that he wasn't angry. But if he wasn't angry, then why had he been staring at her?

All of a sudden, she realized her mistake. Maybe to his people, staring at a woman didn't mean that she'd done something wrong. Maybe it was polite! She wondered at the odd customs, wondering if the women of the Others _enjoyed_ being stared at like that. She doubted that _she_ would ever learn to enjoy it.

Jondalar was still making his words, and Ayla wondered if she would be able to work up the nerve to ask for more words. As she brought him a cup of tea, he wondered whether they would ever be able to understand each other. Languages could be exchanged, but customs? No one Jondalar knew would ever think of sharing their cave with animals and abominations! Was it something that all her people did, or was it only her? He held the cup without drinking, wondering what she was doing in the valley. She certainly _seemed_ intelligent enough, and Mother only knew she was pretty. So what was she doing alone in a cave?

He took a sip of the drink she'd prepared, and felt himself relax. Whatever was in it, the purpose was obvious. It was meant to put him to sleep, and it was working beautifully. As he slipped into slumber, Jondalar murmured, "I don't think I'll mind staying here quite as much, as long as you stay as well."

"The name of this male horse is Zurc," Ayla proclaimed, using the Clan signs instinctively, drawing a stripe of mud from the white patch on his forehead to the end of his nose. Zurc tossed his head, trying to get the odd new weight to go away, but Durc held him down, murmuring in the imaginary language to calm him.

"What are you doing?" Jondalar called from the bed, craning his neck to see through the entrance to the cave.

"We name Durc's horse," Ayla explained. She waved her arm over the head of the animal, and the abomination-child touched the horse's head, muttering something. All of a sudden, the colt sprang away, causing Ayla to jump back in surprise. The colt ran off towards his mother. The abomination-child glanced at Ayla, then sped off after the horse. Jondalar could see that the child would never catch up to the horse, but when the horse stopped, the child was almost right behind it. The child reached up and caressed the newly-named colt. They seemed to be communicating in some way that Jondalar couldn't understand.

Ayla walked back towards the cave, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear as she did so.

"What did you name the horse?" Jondalar asked, when she'd come back in and sat down in front of the hearth.

She looked up, though she still wouldn't meet his eyes. "We name Zurc," Ayla said. The word was harsh and guttural, more a throat-clearing sound than a word.

"Zurc?" Jondalar tried to copy the sound, but his voice couldn't make the same noises that hers could.

"Durc choose. Say that if horse close in name to Durc, they be friends." She didn't appear to notice his pronunciation mistake or, if she did, she was too polite to mention it.

"Does it mean anything?"

"Mean?"

Jondalar struggled to think of a way to express the concept. "Well, green means this color," he indicated a plant that was carefully laid out to dry by the hearth. "What does Zurc mean?"

She still looked confused. "Not mean. Is name-word. Special."

Jondalar nodded. He knew that not every culture had the same customs, but most people's names _did_ mean something particular. Before he could try to explain farther, Ayla stood and moved to the back of the cave, preparing herbs and meat for dinner. He watched her move, admiring the curve of her body --or as much of it as he could see through her shapeless wrap. He felt himself start to harden as he watched, and quickly turned away. Now was not the time to be thinking such thoughts. There probably never _would_ be a time. He sighed. It was going to be a long summer.


	6. Chapter 6

After several day spent bed-ridden in Ayla's cave, though, Jondalar was getting restless. Teaching Ayla to speak was entertaining, and even fun, most of the time, but he was bored of staying in the cave all the time. He had to get out, even if only for a very little while. He said as much to Ayla, and she frowned, considering. He held his breath, hoping that she would agree. Finally, she said, "Cut knots morning. See if Dzyondalar go out."

Jondalar grinned. "So in the morning you'll cut the knots and I'll be able to go out!"

She shook her head. "No. See! If leg no..." she struggled to get the words out correctly. "…heal, Dzyondalar no go out." Jondalar sighed for effect, but he wasn't terribly disappointed. After all, if she forced herself to be understood, she would learn faster, and he would be able to ask her more about herself. She still intrigued Jondalar, and the difficulties that she had with speech made her even more intriguing. It wasn't that she couldn't _learn_ the words –she learned them at a frightful rate, and, so far, she hadn't forgotten any of them– her problem was the _concepts_ behind the words that she had trouble with. She couldn't understand that there were more than one thing that were described by the same word: such as the fact that all shades of green, no matter how light or how dark, were described by the same word. Jondalar had spent an entire afternoon explaining it to her, but she was still highly dubious about the concept.

He still couldn't understand her attachment to the abomination-child, and he was trying to get up the nerve to ask her. Obviously, the child was important to Ayla, but he couldn't understand why she would associate with him. Jondalar himself avoided the child as much as possible, and the child avoided him. They tried never to make eye-contact and, when they did, Jondalar could see that the child loathed him with a passion. At first, he'd tried to tell himself that it wasn't possible for a non-human to have such a strong emotion, but the child had made it more than clear that he hated Jondalar and couldn't wait for the man to leave.

She moved over to the fire, grimacing when she saw that it was completely out. With a sigh, she reached over to a small pile by the hearth and took up some tinder. She piled it in a small heap in the center of the hearth, then reached to the other side and took a piece of flint and a shiny stone that Jondalar didn't recognize. He leaned forwards, wondering what she was going to do with the stones. Was it some sort of charm? She bent over the pile of tinder and struck the stones together sharply. A spark flew and landed in the pile of tinder. She blew on it, carefully adding bits of grass and small twigs until the fire caught hold.

Jondalar stared in amazement. He didn't think he'd ever seen Ayla make a fire. That wasn't unusual: most people banked fires at night. But no one he'd ever seen made fire with _stones_! "Who taught you to make fire that way?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, searching her brain for the words that she needed to explain the time when Durc had hit his knife hand-axe with the fire-stone, not the hammer stone. Finally, she said carefully, "Durc teach." Then, she shook her head. "No. Durc _and_ Ayla teach."

He wondered what she was trying to tell him. Surely the abomination-child hadn't invented that way to make fire! He started to ask her more, but saw the look on her face. Any attempt to question her more would just lead to her feeling bad because she didn't know the words to tell him what she meant. Instead, he asked, "Will you show me how to make one with the stones?" he asked.

She understood. She piled more tinder next to the mattress on which he lay and handed him the stones. "Not hard. Hit stones." He did, feeling slightly foolish. Nothing happened. He flushed, wondering why he'd thought that he could do magic that was obviously reserved for Zelandonii. But she didn't seem to see his discouragement, only reached up and adjusted his grip on the stones. She guided his hands in slow motion, showing him how to strike them properly. He struck again, and this time a spark flew! It didn't land in the tinder, and it took him a few more times to learn to aim properly, but he was elated. It _wasn't_ hard! He made another fire, and looked up as the spark caught. He caught Ayla's eye for the first time, and they exchanged delighted grins.

The next morning, Jondalar woke early. Ayla was still asleep, but the abomination-child was awake. Jondalar wondered if he should pretend to be asleep, but it was too late. The child glanced up, and their eyes locked for the first time in several days. Jondalar struggled against his revulsion, knowing that it would be highly rude to be that impolite to another of Ayla's guests, but he couldn't help it. All his life, he'd been told that creatures such as this child were abominations. What would any of his friends think if they knew he'd shared a cave with one? Jondalar shuddered to think of what they'd say.

Durc was aware of Dzyondalar's gaze, and hesitated in meeting it. Finally, he raised his own eyes, and met the man's blue stare with his own black one. Durc read the hostility and revulsion in the older man's face, and he felt grimly proud that he did not allow his own emotions to gain control of his features. Dzyondalar would never make a good Clan male, Durc thought.

He finished with the strip of meat that he'd been gnawing on, and left the cave. He let out a piercing whistle, and the two horses came galloping over to him. He allowed Whinney and Zurc to take him out of his bad mood, and he was actually laughing with them by the time Ayla had gotten up. She glanced out, and grinned to see him with the horses. She made a bird-sound, which Durc interpreted as a query as to his plans for the day. He patted Zurc's flank, indicating that he meant to spend the day getting to know his horse. She made a one-armed sign of agreement, then turned back into the cave. Durc looked at Zurc, wondering if the colt were ready to be ridden yet. Durc had spent almost every day with his new horse since his birth, and Zurc was just as comfortable in the young man's presence as in his mother's.

Zurc was still very young, though. With a sigh, Durc only fondled and caressed the horse as he usually did. If Zurc sensed disappointment, then the horse didn't make an issue of it. Whinney came over to them, and Durc included her in his morning attentions. He watched as Zurc nuzzled Whinney, looking for milk. Watching, Durc grinned. He turned towards the mouth of the cave, seeing Ayla watching him. Swiftly, he asked her if he could ride Whinney. She nodded her approval, and Durc led the mare over to a rock. Ayla could mount without such aid, but Durc was still too short. Using the rock, he clambered onto Whinney's back easily enough, and as they started off, he whistled for Zurc to follow him.

Ayla was watching Durc, but she couldn't help seeing Dzyondalar as well. The man's eyes were carefully fixed away from Durc, and Durc was carefully not looking back towards the cave. She sighed softly. It was obvious that neither Durc nor Dzyondalar liked each other, and she wished she knew how to change that. She wanted both of the people she could talk too to like each other. Durc remained stubbornly against learning to speak, though, and Jondalar had never shown the slightest interest in teaching Durc.

"I thought you were going to take the knots out today," Jondalar said, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned away from Durc and his horse and walked over to where Jondalar was lying. She was a little wary about removing the stitches, and she hesitated before kneeling down to inspect the wound. The leg had healed well, and she thought that it wouldn't fall apart, but she wasn't sure. She reached over and picked up a bowl of antiseptic solution, bringing it next to her. She dipped her knife into the mixture, then, sending up a quick prayer to the Cave Lion, cut the knot. The deer sinew didn't come out easily, but a quick tug got it out with reasonably little skin attached. Jondalar winced at the pain, but she ignored him. Her mind was only on the leg and the next knot. She had no attention to spare for the actual person attached to the leg. Finally, she'd removed all the knots. She sat back on her heels, examining the wound. It bled slightly, but the muscle and skin seemed to be holding together quite nicely.

Jondalar looked as well, trying not to wince at what he saw. The swelling had gone down and there weren't any obvious infections, true, but the amount of scaring would be phenomenal. He hoped that he would eventually be able to regain full use of the limb, but knew he would be lucky if he managed to walk properly again. "Can I go out now?" he asked.

Ayla frowned, considering. The leg didn't look too bad, but she wondered if he would be able to put weight on it. "Wait until blood leave," she said finally. If he could stand on it when the blood had stopped trickling, then she would allow him to go outside. If not… she didn't like to think about the implications of that thought. She though that, in time, he'd probably regain use of the leg, but she wasn't at all sure that he would be able to do all the things he was used to doing. She hoped so, but there was no way of knowing for sure.

She was about to leave him to clean her knife and dispose of the antiseptic –it didn't keep– when he stopped her. "Can I see your knife?" he asked.

She carefully dried it on her wrap, then handed it over to him. He turned it over in his hands, holding his tongue carefully between his teeth. "Where did you get this?" he demanded. The blade was incredibly primitive, only a sharpened flake. There was no handle, and he could see clearly where the flint had been retouched so that it wouldn't cut the person who used it. "Who made it?"

"Ayla make." Ayla watched him carefully, wondering if she should tell him that she wasn't the best tool-maker. As his frown deepened, though, she realized that, if she didn't, he might think that Droog had made it, and he would not respect the old tool-maker's skill as much as he should. "I not best," she said carefully, searching for each word before she said it. "I learn from best, but I not best."

Jondalar looked at her in amusement. She sounded just like he had when he was younger, still an apprentice flint knapper. He'd showed his first blade to Jerika, and had then hastened to add that it was his work, not Dalanar's. But at least his blade had been a true one, complete with a handle. This looked like it was just the beginning of a blade, a rough outline of the tool that would eventually be formed; yet Ayla used and handled it as though it were finished. "Who are you, Ayla?" he murmured as he turned the tool over in his hands again. "Where do you come from?"


	7. Chapter 7

Later that afternoon, Jondalar was finally allowed to leave the cave. As he maneuvered slowly out of the bed, he grimaced in pain. Moving hurt more than he'd realized. Even so, he managed to achieve a sitting position, his legs resting on the floor. He didn't want to imagine getting up and putting weight on them, though. "I may need a little help," he said, wondering if he would be able to go out even _with_ help.

"Ayla help," she said instantly. She moved over to his side and offered her shoulder. He reached up and put a hand on it, bracing the other hand against the wall of the cave. Slowly, painfully, he managed to attain an upright position, good leg planted firmly on the floor.

Ayla watched this process with a morbid fascination, fighting the urge to wince whenever he did. Finally, he stood upright, and looked at her. She stared at her in amazement. He was so _tall_! She hadn't realized just how tall he was. She hadn't been shorter than anyone since she was a child, and the feeling was odd. The feeling of anxious fear that had filled her ever since Dzyondalar arrived ebbed slightly: surely he wouldn't think her _too_ big and ugly. After all, she wasn't taller than he was.

Jondalar watched her gaze up at him in astonishment. He wondered why she was so amazed. He knew that he was considered unusually handsome by most women –and some men as well– but surely she'd noticed that before. But then, there were things about her that he hadn't noticed either. She was taller than he'd thought, and now that she had to support him, he realized that she held herself with the grace of a hunter. She was strong, too. He could feel her muscles under his hand.

They were looking at each other when both suddenly became conscious of it and looked away. "Dzyondalar need… garment," Ayla said, looking pointedly at his manhood. She blushed, for some unknown reason, and looked away.

Jondalar glanced down at himself. He was naked, he realized at once. Of course he would be naked! The lion had destroyed his clothes as well as his leg. It made sense that his clothes would be unusable.

He hoped that he wouldn't have to wear the same kind of garment that Ayla was wearing, having seen how ungainly it seemed. Still, he'd learned on his Journey that travelers could be pardoned for many transgressions, but it was wise to take heed of the hints that were offered.

There didn't seem to be any other garments available, though, and Ayla was approaching him, holding a long, shapeless skin in front of her. Jondalar looked from the skin to himself to the world outside. He grinned, realizing that, until Ayla had mentioned his nakedness, he hadn't realized it at all. His grin turned into a chuckle, then a full-throated laugh.

Ayla stared at him in astonishment. He had no way of knowing what the sound of his laughter meant to her. All he knew was that she was looking at him in that way she had when he'd done something unbelievable, and her expression made him laugh harder. After a few more seconds of staring, Ayla joined in. they laughed together until he almost fell over from the movement. She caught him, but they both calmed down slightly. Jondalar grinned at Ayla.

"Are you going to let me out once I've put that on?" he asked, gesturing towards the skin she'd put on the floor to catch him.

She nodded and stopped to pick up the skin. She handed it to him, helping him balance as he struggled to put on the skin and tie the thongs attached to it.

"I may need a little help," he admitted, realizing that he simply didn't have enough hands to both tie the thong and balance himself. He let go of her and used both hands to brace himself while she skillfully put the wrap around him and tied it.

"What is word?" she asked as she worked.

"The word for what?"

"For… ha ha ha."

"Laugh. Laughter."

"Which is right?"

"They're both right. You laugh, but it is laughter."

Ayla nodded, tying one last knot. "Is hard speak," she said as she stood back. "Ayla not do good."

Jondalar looked at her. "You're doing wonderfully, Ayla," he said seriously.

She shook her head. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Ayla not put words with words right."

Jondalar tried to shrug, but found that that was hard to do while staying braced against the wall with both hands. "That will come later, Ayla," he said. "Trust me! You're doing very well."

She sighed. Then, she looked up. "Dzyondalar laugh?" she asked.

He wondered if she wanted to be corrected, but there was nothing wrong with that particular sentence. He nodded. "Yes. I laughed."

She grinned. "Ayla laugh. Ayla like laugh!"

"Right now," Jondalar told her, still grinning. "Jondalar 'like go out.'"

She nodded and moved so that he could brace himself on her shoulder instead of the wall. At first, he was reluctant to put too much weight on her, but when he saw how well she was managing, he put his trust in her and leaned on her much harder. His leg hurt. He couldn't believe how much it hurt. He wanted to call the whole thing off then and there, but he'd been so eager to get out, and he couldn't bear to see Ayla look at him with disappointment. He gulped and took another step.

They finally made it out of the cave and onto a small ledge that jutted out of the wall next to the cave. He sank down onto this with relief, feeling the dull throb in his leg lessen slightly as he took his weight off it. He looked left, towards where the horses were standing. The abomination-child was with them, petting the colt and scratching the mare. The animals seemed completely comfortable with the child, which Jondalar found slightly hard to believe. How could something like _that_ be intelligent enough to know which animals were friends?

He turned towards Ayla, only to find her looking at the horses as well, a wistful expression on her face. He started to ask her what she was thinking about, but quickly realized that it would be very rude to do so. Besides, she probably didn't know enough words to explain it to him properly. He'd noticed how frustrated she got when that happened, and tried not to ask her any questions that she wouldn't be able to answer. It was _hard_, though. There was so much he wanted to know, and he couldn't ask her yet. How did she make the horses obey her? Why was she living alone in the Valley with _only_ the animals and the abomination-child, who was just another animal, after all? Who were her people?

Ayla was watching Durc play with the horses, thinking that he reminded her of the child he'd been. Though he was only in his waiting year, he was much more grown up than most boys of the Clan were at that age. He'd made his first kill during the learning year, much earlier than was usual. He'd been the man of the hearth for half of his life, and he'd learned the responsibilities that went with the position. Only rarely now did Ayla see her son laugh freely as he had when he was a child.

She wished that Baby hadn't left. The cave lion had been a companion for Durc, as much his teacher as his friend. From Baby, Durc had learned new ways to hunt, and to track. Ayla had noted, though Durc hadn't, that Baby's lessons hadn't left yet. She doubted that they ever would. Durc still walked silently, stalking everyone, even her, without realizing it. He was unusually alert and in tune with the natural world, and it was often Durc who spotted the prey that they would hunt. Ayla was proud of her son's accomplishments and maturity, of course, but she often found herself longing for the time when she'd been Ayla of the Clan, Medicine Woman in training, and he'd been Durc of the Clan, soon to be a hunter. Life had been much easier, if not simpler back then.

She turned away from Durc and the horses, looking out towards the river. They couldn't see the pool from where they were, but Ayla knew where it was. She became aware that she hadn't had a bath in too long, and that her hair was greasy and dirty. She was about to head down towards it when she saw the flock of birds that approached cautiously. They'd learned not to be afraid of Ayla, but they didn't know the man and they were nervous.

Ayla grinned, then walked the few paces back to the cave to fetch a handful of grain. Jondalar was puzzled as she left, and even more so when, returning with the grain, she stooped and scattered the grain a few feet away from him. She looked towards the trees, then pursed her lips and let loose a high, sweet whistle. Birds swarmed from the tree, squabbling and scolding each other as they rushed to get the food by the woman. The air was filled with bird songs, and Jondalar was so absorbed with Ayla that he didn't notice the abomination-child coming towards them. Jondalar watched Ayla closely, noticing suddenly that many of the sounds were coming from her! She was singing with the birds, and they were singing back!

All at once, Jondalar heard a slightly different whistle. Three of the birds flew away from the mob. Ayla smiled, and Jondalar turned his head to see the abomination-child holding the three birds, caressing their heads. Still holding them, he bent down and swiped a little grain. His eyes met Jondalar's as he stood back up, and Jondalar could see the hostility in the child's eyes. Ayla saw it too, and she frowned, but didn't stop her song. Unexpectedly, she moved gracefully over to Jondalar, holding a blackbird on her finger. She whistled something soothingly comforting to the bird, then held it down for Jondalar to touch. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand to stroke the bird's head. The feathers felt soft and smooth under his fingers. The bird didn't move.

Still whistling softly, Ayla gently transferred the bird from her finger to Jondalar's. Jondalar stayed completely motionless, afraid that the bird would fly off if he moved. All of a sudden, the bird made a soft noise, and a white and black pile of goo landed on Jondalar's palm. Jondalar started, and the bird flew off. He wiped his hand on the ledge, grimacing. The grain was gone by now, and Ayla was finishing her songs. She met Jondalar's eyes, and they both grinned simultaneously. This time, neither one of them noticed Durc's scowl.


	8. Chapter 8

Once all the birds were gone, Ayla dusted her hands off on her wrap. The dirt on it reminded her of her earlier intention to swim, and she looked again towards where she knew the pool was. She hesitated, but Jondalar was much better, after all, and Durc was within reasonable distance, having retreated back to the horses, and she herself would be within shouting range if either he or Durc needed anything. And she really _wanted_ a swim!

Making up her mind, she told him, "Ayla go in water." She pantomimed swimming as she did so, hoping that he'd get the message.

"Swim," he told her, copying the pantomime.

"Svim," she repeated hesitantly.

He shook his head. "Swim," he said again, making sure that every syllable was understandable.

"Su-im," she tried again, making a great effort to say it right.

He nodded. "That's right." He glanced towards the stream that was glittering in the sunlight. "I wish I could go with you!"

Ayla grinned, but didn't answer. She set off down the path. Idly, Jondalar admired the way she moved. She had a grace to her movements that he'd noticed before, but it was much more pronounced when she was actually going somewhere than when she was just walking around the cave. She walked with a surety that showed her long experience as a hunter. She walked down the path as though she owned it, proof that she'd been in the valley a long time, but with an unconscious alertness that hardly ever left. Jondalar realized that he wanted this woman very badly. He wondered how old she was. She looked about 20 or so, but it was hard to tell. There were women who looked 20 at twice that age, and women who aged far beyond their years.

Ayla didn't notice Dzyondalar's attention. She was focused on looking for soaproot. There it was! She picked a handful of the plants, then found a stone that she could use to grind them up. When she arrived at the pool, she stripped quickly and slid into the pool, putting the soaproot and the rock down before she did so. She gasped slightly at the cold, but she soon became accustomed to the chill. It wasn't that cold, after all, and the days were getting warmer. She soaked for a few minutes, then swam over to where the soaproot was still waiting. She ground it up and lathered the resulting powder over her body. She watched as the water carried the dirty suds away, and decided that she wanted to wash her hair. There was still some powder, and she worked it into her hair, dipping her head into the water and scrubbing until the last of the dirt and lather washed away. She swam down river a bit until she could see Jondalar again. She waved at him, and he waved back. She could see his grin even with the distance between them, and she felt herself grin back.

She was feeling cold again, so she drifted to the bank and climbed out. She sat down on a rock, reaching for a twig to comb her hair with. As she worked, she felt herself relaxing, and drying off. When she was finished combing out her hair, she thought about braiding it again, but she wanted to let it dry out completely first. She knew from experience that if she braided it too soon after she washed it, her hair would take days to dry.

She started back up the path, intending to ask Jondalar if he was tired. It was his first time out in a long time, after all, and he would probably be tired. She glance at her wrap, loath to put the dirty skin back onto her now clean skin. With a shrug, she picked it up and folded it, intending to come back and wash it later. She had spares, after all.

Jondalar was wondering how long it would take her to return. He could feel the sun heating his exposed back: he hadn't been out at all in the last week, and not for very long before that. Whatever tan he had acquired had long ago vanished. He'd already seen that Ayla was far more tan than he, and thought that she must work in the sun much more than he ever had. But that was natural, of course. After all, she _did_ live alone, with only animals to help her, and they couldn't do much to help with what had to be done. He'd seen the abomination-child helping, but he didn't do much, and Jondalar thought that Ayla had probably trained him to do simple chores, just as she'd trained her horse to come at her whistle and let her ride on its back.

He saw her climb out of the river, and wondered how long it would take her to return. He was tired, and knew that he was going to be sunburned, but he was still loath to interrupt her fun. Ever since he'd woken up that first morning and probably for a while before, she'd barely left his side. Surely he could manage a few minutes without her! He looked around, trying to find something to distract him from the sun. His eye was caught by the abomination-child and the hoses. The child was stroking the two, but he appeared to be lavishing more attention on the new colt, Zurc. Jondalar thought about what Ayla had said on the day she named the colt: s_ay that if horse close in name to Durc, they be friends._ Was it true? The colt certainly seemed to enjoy the child's company, and the child was gentle and kind with both horses, but especially the colt.

Jondalar thought suddenly about the flatheads he'd met during his Journey. He'd had his doubts about whether _they _were animals. Was it possible that he'd been right? Ayla certainly seemed to trust the child with the horses, and she didn't talk to him any differently than she spoke to Jondalar. Of course, he had no idea _how_ they communicated, but they must. The child knew what she wanted when she asked for it, even though he hadn't been able to learn the words. Hadn't been able to, or hadn't _wanted_ to? Jondalar pushed the thought out of his mind. Of course the child wouldn't be able to speak! Why would someone who was capable of intelligent speech not want to learn? No, it must be that the child was incapable of speech.

Ayla was coming back up the hill, carrying her skin over one arm. Jondalar was about to call out to her, but a glimpse of her in the afternoon sunlight was enough to still the words before he'd even thought seriously about what to say.

He'd thought she was pretty earlier, with her slightly bedraggled hair and shapeless skin. Now, with her golden mane fluttering out around her head in the breeze, completely naked except for the folded skin she carried over one arm, she took his breath away. Her browned skin fitted tightly over hard muscles. Jondalar thought that they weren't the kind of muscles that came from trying to be strong, those bulged and rolled alarmingly, but simply those of everyday life. But he'd never seen a woman who's everyday life gave her this perfect of a body. He saw the scars on her body: obviously she hadn't been the kind of woman who lounged around her cave, thinking of nothing more than how she looked. He'd known that, of course, but, somehow, it hit him more strongly now that it ever had before. Mentally, he traced the four parallel lines on her left thigh, wondering how she'd gotten them. There were other scars on her body, but none were as deep as those four. She had a triangle-shaped nick on her throat, one he'd seen before. It looked too precise to have been an accident, and he wondered who had marked her. Had it been an attack, or some kind of ritual? He didn't know any rituals that required that particular type of scar, but she was obviously not from any people that he'd encountered. He'd learned that trying to anticipate customs of foreign peoples was a rather useless enterprise.

She came closer, and he could see that she was much more than simply pretty. She was beautiful, by anyone's standards. His eyes traveled up from her legs to her midsection, where he admired her well-formed hips, and then up farther until he was looking at her breasts. They were firm and round, high on her chest and showing no signs of sagging. His eyes traveled down her figure again, and stopped on her stomach. Her flat stomach showed signs of previous pregnancy. Previous pregnancy?! Jondalar has seen no hint of a child, apart from… But no. That was ridiculous! Her child had probably died. Enough women lost children that it wasn't really a novel event. He realized that he was staring at her obsessively, and struggled to tear his gaze away from the firm flatness of her midsection.

Ayla knew that Dzyondalar was watching her, and she felt uncomfortable again. She reminded herself that he wasn't being rude, that she hadn't done anything wrong, but it was hard to put a side a lifetime's worth of training in a few days. She didn't normally feel exposed when she was naked, but something in the way he was watching her made her shift her wrap slightly so that the bundle that it made covered her breasts.

She came over to stand next to him, and saw to her shame that his back was an angry red. How _could_ she have gotten so carried away that she forgot that he was more sensitive than her to sunlight?

"Back is," she said, bending over him to examine the burn. She didn't know the word for sunburn, so she finished, "fire. Back is fire, Dzyondalar." She was about to say more, but the look in his eyes stopped her. He was eyeing her hungrily, the way Broud had done the first time he relieved his needs with her. But Dzyondalar _wasn't_ Broud, she reminded herself firmly, and the look in the man's eyes didn't change that. Even so, she felt her expressive face close a little, and she could tell that he noticed as well. His gaze lost a little of his animal magnetism, and she felt her breath return.

"Ayla help Dzyondalar go cave," she said. He nodded, and allowed her to help him up and into the cave. He sat down on her bed and she looked over her supply of medicinal herbs. She didn't have the one that she wanted, and cursed with a brief one handed Clan motion. Then, she remembered that she'd seen some burdock leaves on the way to the cave. She should have remembered! She dashed out of the cave, running swiftly until she reached the tree. Efficiently, she stripped the tree of a branch's worth of leaves and went back up to the cave. She skillfully prepared them and added water, turning them into a medicinal mush. She scooped up a palm full of the goop and began to smooth it over Dzyondalar's back. He relaxed as the mush took effect, and she rubbed it all into his back, thinking that it should be entirely healed within a few days.

Suddenly, he reached over and touched her leg. His hand touched her knee, and kept going, moving softly up her thigh and to her backside. She gasped in shock, and instinctively put out a hand to stop him. He didn't seem to see, though, and his hand lifted from her buttocks and touched a nipple. A jolt of something shot through her, and she froze, trying to capture and examine the sensation. His hand lifted immediately, and he looked away.

Jondalar was confused, though not as much as she was. He knew himself to be desirable, and she was _definitely_ desirable. So why shouldn't she want him to touch her? Wasn't it natural for a desirable man to touch a beautiful woman? It wasn't like she'd never been touched before! Suddenly, he frowned. What if her mate had died along with her child? She might not be ready for someone else. Then again, maybe she just didn't like him. That didn't explain why she'd come near him, though. It had been obvious, was still obvious, that he wanted her.

Jondalar shifted uncomfortably, and felt the stretch of his skin as the glop that she'd put on his back shifted. She'd been treating his burn. That was why she'd come so close. It had nothing to do with his manhood. He frowned, trying to decide. And then another thought came to him. She was obviously some sort of very powerful Zelandoni. Maybe… he smacked himself in the forehead with his palm, wincing at his own stupidity. She was going through a test, one that forbade Pleasures. It made perfect sense, and he felt a deep blush rising. He knew that he'd done something totally unforgivable.

He heard her moving around the cave and wondered what she was doing. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who would turn an injured man out into the wild, but how much would he see of her. Would she set her abomination-child servant to do all that he needed? Jondalar shuddered at the thought, wincing at the bolts of pain that shot up his leg as he moved. That would be the worst punishment, even worse than being turned out completely. To be touched by an abomination… he would have shuddered again if he hadn't remembered how much it had hurt the first time.


	9. Chapter 9

Ayla walked softly over to her bed and sank down gracefully to sit cross-legged beside it. In her hands she held a cup full of pain medicine, and she was determined not to be rude again. If he wanted something from her, then he would tell her. She had no right to demand things from him, even in her capacity as a Medicine Woman. Women did as they were told, not the other way around. When he wanted to speak to her again, he would let her know.

Sure enough, he soon rolled over with difficulty and looked at her. His eyes started to travel down her body, but she saw him check his gaze sharply and bring those eyes that were bluer than the sky to meet her own. She waited patiently for him to tap her on the shoulder, then realized with sudden insight that he couldn't know how to talk with her. He didn't know her signs, that much was plain, and so how could he be expected to know how to signal that she could speak to him? Reverting to her training was going to be much harder than she'd imagined.

'Maybe I should teach him Clan signs in exchange for his words,' she thought as she handed him the cup of liquid. 'Then he would know what I meant. But no. Iza told me that I had to find my own people. They won't talk with Clan signs, and so I can't keep thinking like them.' She sighed very slightly, making sure that he didn't notice. It would be hard to ignore all of her upbringing and learn a completely foreign culture. Still, she was determined to try. Her totem had lead her here and brought Dzyondalar to her for a reason. It had never led her wrong before, and it would not like her ignoring its gifts now.

Dzyondalar had finished the cup and she took it back from him. He looked at her for a long time, and despite her new resolve to put her past behind her and learn his new customs, she couldn't help looking back down at her lap in shame. He began to speak, using many words that she didn't understand and weaving them together far too quickly for her to comprehend. She allowed his words to wash over her, absorbing the way they sounded and storing the knowledge without realizing it. When he finally ran out of words, he looked at her for a long, almost timeless moment. Slowly, the sleeping agent of the medicine began to take over, and he lowered himself back down onto the bed and fell deeply asleep. Ayla watched him for a small moment, noting how muscular he was despite his injury. For the first time, she began to have an inkling of why it was that the Clan women wanted certain men to relieve their needs with them. She felt a sudden longing for Dzyondalar to relieve his needs with her, and she was shocked at the thought. Iza had told her to find her own mate. Was that Dzyondalar? Deeply disturbed yet deeply grateful, she left the cave softly and emerged into the open air.

Durc was playing with the horses, just as he had been ever since they had named Zurc. Ayla suddenly felt the need for a ride. She wanted to ride as fast as the wind and leave her problems and discomforts behind. She whistled for Whinney. Durc looked up as the mare cantered over to her friend.

"I am going for a ride," Ayla signed to her son. "Do you wish to come?"

Durc nodded and jogged over to them. Though he was still shorter than Ayla, he mounted Whinney easily. Ayla swung up behind him and they set off.

Durc was exhilarated. Not only were he and Ayla alone together again, but they were flying across the plain, galloping as though they could never stop. Whinney covered the ground easily, seeming to float over the ground like the birds that soared overhead. They rode for a long time, simply enjoying the feel of the wind on their faces. Finally, Whinney slowed and eventually stopped altogether. Ayla and Durc slid off, allowing Whinney to graze a little ways off. Durc instinctively began to scan the area for game, spotting the ptarmigans a fraction of a second before Ayla did. He swung his loaded sling up and over his head, releasing the rock at the zenith of the swing. He knew that he wouldn't need a second stone, but he had another one ready out of habit. Ayla walked over to find his kill, returning with one of her own.

"You are getting much better with the sling," she told him approvingly. "Soon you will start learning to use it from Whinney's back."

Durc frowned. "Why not now, Mama?" he asked. "I can hit anything I aim at both times. I do not even need the second stone most of the time."

"You must not become overconfident," Ayla warned him.

He sighed. She'd told him over and over again about her own bout of overconfidence, and he was sure that he would never make a mistake like that. But he only bowed his head and nodded.

Ayla watched her son with pride as he began to prepare the birds. He was growing up well, despite the absence of other men around. Perhaps that had even helped with his development. He was far more interested in herbs and medicines than other Clan men, and he'd been a great help to her for the last many years. Unlike other of the Clan, he could learn women's work, just as she herself could learn men's work. They shared the jobs evenly, and she didn't know how she would have managed without him.

"Mama?" he asked, pausing in his work to look up at her.

"Yes?"

"What will you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"The man of the Others. When he gets better, what will you do?"

She sighed, frowning. "I do not know," she admitted. "He is teaching me the words and customs of the Others. Until he has finished teaching me, he cannot leave."

"Why must you learn their words?" Durc demanded. "What will you do with them?"

"Iza told me to find my people," Ayla told him yet again. "I must continue with my journey eventually. The Cave Lion sent Dzyondalar here to help me with that search."

'And what of _me_?' Durc wanted to demand. 'What will you do when you have to choose between the man of the Others and me?' He'd seen the way the man looked at Ayla and, worse, he'd seen the way she was starting to look back. It worried him and it scared him deeply. If Ayla went away, then what would become of him? She would have to choose, and Durc was afraid that he knew what her choice would be. He couldn't say that, though, so he only bowed his head and dropped the subject, dreading the time when the choice would come and childishly hoping that, by not speaking of it any longer, he would forestall the inevitable.

"Ayla?" Jondalar asked tentatively, wondering if he could really ask her this.

"Yes Jondalar?"

He grinned at that. She'd been practicing, and it was plain in the way she pronounced the words. She still had trouble with sentences, but Jondalar was sure that it would come with time.

"Who are your people? Where do you come from?"

Ayla's smile vanished, and her face took on a grim cast. Jondalar began to worry that she wasn't going to answer him when she answered quietly, "No people. Ayla and Durc of no people."

Jondalar grimaced inwardly at the mention of the abomination-child. He had, reluctantly, began calling him by the name Ayla used, though he couldn't pronounce it correctly, but he couldn't understand why she kept insisting on including him. After all, it wasn't like he was a proper _person_! Then again, Ayla referred to Whinney as a member of her family, so he supposed that he shouldn't be surprised at the fact that she did the same with Durc.

"But you must have had people once," Jondalar insisted, following her awkwardly as she made her way back to the cave. "Someone must have raised you, must have taught you to cook and to heal. Why do you say you have no people now? What happened to you Ayla?"

There was a long moment of silence during which Jondalar thought again that she wasn't going to answer. Hesitantly, he began, "If you don't want to tell me…"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "Ayla tell." She shrugged helplessly. "Not know words."

He nodded, understanding. They walked a little farther, then she stopped abruptly. He stopped as well, and they sat down on a rock. "What do your people call themselves?" Jondalar asked, thinking that it might be easier for her to respond to direct questions.

The look of gratitude on her face confirmed his guess. "Call themselves," she paused, thinking. "Man… woman… baby… all Clan." Her hands moved at the same time, just as they often did. Jondalar barely noticed, wracking his brains to try to remember a people who called themselves by that name. He couldn't think of any, which didn't mean that they didn't exist, of course. Still, she must have come from very far away.

"Like a family? A man, a woman, and her children living together?" he asked, wondering if maybe she wasn't sure what he meant.

She nodded. "Yes. Like big family. Small clan. Also big Clan. All Clan. Different small clan. Ayla and Durc with Brun's clan. Broud's clan now."

He noted that her accent became more pronounced when she spoke the words, and that they were short and guttural, much like the way she said Durc's name. Her hands became more energetic too, obviously emphasizing her words. He wondered if all of her people did that or just her.

"Glun?" he asked, struggling to pronounce the word correctly.

She smiled slightly. "Ayla no say Jondalar's words right, Jondalar no say Ayla's words right."

Jondalar frowned. Words? But if she knew words, then why hadn't she used them at the beginning? The only word's he'd ever heard her use were the ones he'd taught her.

"Not know many words," she explained, seeing his confusion. "Clan not use words."

"They don't use words?" Jondalar asked, confused. "But how do they speak?"

"With hands." Seeing that he still didn't understand, she said, "We show. Durc!"

Jondalar sighed. Why did she have to keep bringing Durc? The boy walked up to them, obviously no happier about this than Jondalar himself. "We show," Ayla said again. Jondalar watched as she and Durc began to wave their hands around. After a moment, he realized with a start that they were communicating!

Ayla watched as Jondalar's face smoothed out. He understood them! Or rather, she corrected herself, he understood that she and Durc were speaking.

"Are you sure that you don't want to learn his words?" Ayla asked, using the formal signs.

Durc grimaced. This was an argument that they had had many times and Ayla had yet to win it. "I do not want to," he said stubbornly. "I do not need to."

"Iza said that I should find my own people," Ayla insisted. "That means speaking their words!"

"I am not you," Durc argued. "I do not have people to mate with."

"I will not leave you," she said fiercely. "But I will find my mate! It will be harder for you if you cannot talk like them."

Durc sighed. "Mama, why do we need to learn? You could teach your mate the signs."

"We are not with the Clan any longer," Ayla reminded him. "We must speak like the Others do. It is the way they do it, so it is the way we must."

"I do not want to be like the Others," Durc said sulkily.

Ayla scowled at him. "If I were the Leader, I would cuff you for that," she told him.

"But you are not. You are a woman. Women cannot be Leaders," Durc told her.

Her eyes flashed. "I may not be Leader, but until you find a mate of your own you will do as I say." Her gestures were crisp and full of irritation. "You may be a man, Durc, but we are no longer with the Clan."

He glowered at her. "I know that," he snapped. "But I am a man, and so I do not need to do as you say. We work together because we must, but you do not tell me what to do. You are a woman, and, though you know how to do many things that women do not, you are not above me."

Ayla cuffed him. Hard. "Be quiet," she ordered sharply. "You will not say things like that, do you understand me? We work together because you are not experienced enough with a sling to do it by yourself. Soon you will be, but for now you are still learning. Remember that."

The look in his face was one of pain and anger. She longed to put her arms around him and teach him something new, but she knew that he would not allow her to do it in Jondalar's presence. Instead, she lowered her head in a gesture of apology. He nodded his forgiveness, then wheeled and went back to his horse.

Jondalar had been watching them with amazement. It was incredible how much they managed to convey! He didn't know what they were talking about, but it was plain they were arguing. His breath caught as Ayla slapped the child. He had never imagined her as the type to slap _anyone_, much less what was obviously still a child. To her credit, it wasn't as though she had really slapped a person, and she _did_ look sorry about it afterwards. He decided not to mention it to her and, as the boy turned and stalked away, he breathed, "That was incredible! It was almost like a dance."

She frowned and shook her head. "Not dance. Talk. We talk with hands like Clan."

She suddenly looked uncomfortable, and sank with a single, gracefully fluid motion to sit cross-legged at his feet. He frowned, wondering what she'd done that for. Suddenly, he remembered her doing that when he'd first met her. Maybe it was something her people did and asking her to talk like them had made her think like them again. It wasn't what _his_ people did, though, and it made him uncomfortable. It wasn't right for any person to look with such deference on another person. It was what people did for the Mother, and She might get jealous if people did it to each other.

He reached down and touched her arm. "Ayla, please get up."

She shook her head. "In Clan, when woman want talk man, she sit on ground. Ayla want talk Jondalar. Ayla sit on ground. Is Clan way."

"You don't have to do that with me, Ayla."

She remained stubbornly seated, but at least she looked up at him. "Ayla want say…" she paused, obviously wracking her brains for a way to say what she wanted to. Jondalar waited, curious. "Ayla want say… Jondalar give Ayla words… Ayla want say…" she trailed off helplessly. "Ayla no talk good," she muttered in defeat.

"Are you trying to say thank you?" Jondalar asked gently.

She looked into his eyes. "What mean, 'thank you'?"

He frowned, trying to think of a way to explain the concept of gratitude. "You saved me, Ayla. You nursed me and gave me food and took care of me. Thank you for that."

She shook her head. "Not same," she insisted. "Jondalar hurt, Ayla take care. Ayla Medicine Woman. Ayla _have_ take care of Jondalar when hurt. Jondalar _give_ Ayla words. Is different!"

He sighed, wondering how to get her to understand. He was getting a bit irritated at having to look down at her, and he said as much. She didn't move. "Ayla, I understand that you are a healer, but you still saved me. You might not think that that's special, but to me, it's very important. I thank you for that. For me, it isn't anything special to teach you to speak, but to you, it's important. I think you're trying to say that you're grateful to me for that. In my language, you would say thank you."

She smiled at him, expressing all the gratitude that she couldn't say in words. She got up as gracefully as she had sat down and whistled shrilly. Jondalar was used to it now, and he grinned in delight as Ayla's horse, came galloping towards them. The foal was still with Durc, but they were looking towards Ayla and Whinney. Ayla sprang onto Whinney's back, grinning widely. "Ayla ride!" she called down, leaning forward very slightly. The horse took off, galloping the length of the field. Ayla held on easily, obviously completely comfortable on her horse. Jondalar watched her in awe, wondering momentarily if she were some kind of Donii-woman. Surely no one else would be able to command animals with such effortless grace. For that matter, surely no one else would be able to command animals at _all_. Besides, there was the dream he'd had about the young Donii turning aside the lion…

Then he remembered Ayla's obvious frustration over her inability to communicate as well as she would like. No, she was most definitely human. Even so, she _did_ have a way with animals: the birds came at her call, and the horses did as she bid. Not to mention, of course, the child. Although, come to think of it, Ayla treated the child differently than she did the other animals. Of course, that might just be because he _was_ partly human.

And, of course, there was the matter of her people. Who _were _they, that they communicated with their hands? Was it common among them to live with animals? That would explain her facility with them, he mused, watching her brush her horse down. She seemed to be one with the creature, seemed to communicate with it at an elemental level. It was incredible, and he realized that he was very lucky that she'd adopted him too.


	10. Chapter 10

Durc woke to the sounds of his mother walking around in the dark. He rolled over, trying to gauge what time it was. The fire had gone out, and the only light that shone through was that of the moon. He looked the other way towards where Jondalar was still sleeping, and grimaced. He wasn't going to stay in the cave with Jondalar all alone!

He slipped out of his sleeping furs and walked over to where she was standing. She didn't look back at him, but he knew that she knew that he was there. She sat gracefully, watching the nighttime sky. He sat next to her, following her gaze. He looked at the moon, wondering where it got its light. It was so different from the light of the sun, warm and soothing to the sun's harsh glares. It bathed the world in a bright white light, throwing everything into sharp relief, allowing people to see things differently.

"Mama?" he asked softly.

She turned to him, looking at him with an expression full of love. "Yes?"

"What will you do?" It was a dangerous question, one that could very well shatter the peace of the valley. Yet here, by the warm light of the moon, Durc knew that it had to be asked.

Ayla considered this for a long moment. Durc began to fear that she wouldn't answer him, but she was only thinking. Finally, she said slowly, "I don't know. I want to find the Others, but I don't know."

"But…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Listen to me, Durc. You remember the story of how you were accepted into Brun's clan?"

He nodded. He'd been told of his mother's defiance of Brun's order and then subsequent return before the allotted seven days were up. It was seen by most of the Clan as a sign that the men of the Clan would always be stronger than the women, even those of the Others. Why else would Ayla have returned early? Durc, who knew his mother for who she really was, thought differently. The way he saw it, the very fact that she'd returned early was a sign of her strength and her power. She had come back out of her own free will, forced by no man. Who but a woman sure of herself and of her power would do that?

"I swore to myself the day you were accepted that I would never leave you," she continued. "And that has not changed. Durc, my son, what do _you_ want to do?"

He sighed. "I… I want to return to the Clan," he admitted. "I want to see Uba again and Grev and Brac. I want to see Brun talking with Ebra, and I want to know that I will be safe."

She looked at him, her eyes full of a sadness that went beyond simple remembrance. Durc knew that she was thinking of Iza, the only mother she had ever known, and of Creb, the Mog-ur who had been the man of her hearth. What must it be like for her, stranded away from those she considered her family, her head full of the images of those she had lost?

"So do I," she told him. "But we can't go back."

"I know." He grimaced, his hand clenching suddenly into a small, angry fist. "I hate Broud. He ruined my life. He ruined _your_ life!"

She nodded. "Yes," she agreed. Her face smoothed into a slightly pensive expression. "Or maybe he saved it."

Durc frowned. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "He cursed you with Death, remember?"

"Yes. But in doing so, he made me take you here. We've learned things here that we would never have discovered with the Clan. Think of Whinney and Zurc and Baby. Think of the firestones. No one would have let us keep the animals, or use the stones with the Clan."

"Yes," Durc agreed slowly. "But…"

"I wish nothing had changed," Ayla assured him. "But then I remember what we've done here, and I think, maybe it's what Ursus wanted to happen. Do you remember when we found this valley? Both of us found signs from our totems. That means that they accepted this as their home, and that it was right for us to be here." She paused, her eyes turning meditatively dreamy. "You know, Creb once said that no one, not even him, could understand the spirits completely. We could only guess and do what we thought they wanted. It's like trying to hunt an animal you can't ever see. You follow the tracks and guess where you think they might be, but, in the end, you don't even know for sure if you're on the right track."

Durc stared at her. "Creb talked about spirits with you?" he demanded, incredulous. "But you're a woman!"

She ducked her head in embarrassment. "He was talking to Brun," she admitted. "I just happened to see."

Durc grinned.

"He was right, though," Ayla continued. "We don't know if the spirits are happy with us being here. We can only find the signs and hope that we're interpreting them correctly."

"So you'll wait for a sign to tell you what to do?" Durc asked, wondering if he was interpreting right. In many ways, talking about the future with his mother was much like talking with spirits: she would never give definite answers, preferring to hint at things that might or might not happen. It got very frustrating.

She sighed. "I don't know," she said yet again. "I need to learn to speak correctly first. Then we will decide what to do."

"We?"

She smiled at him, her expression full of loving exasperation. "Durc, did you think I would go without your approval? When – if – we go, it will be if both of us agree to it. I promise."

Jondalar wasn't sure how long Ayla had been standing there when he woke up. He suspected that it had been a long time, but he didn't say anything. He could walk more easily now, though not for long distances, and he slipped out of the bed and padded towards where she was standing, leaning against Whinney and looking up at the stars. It was only as he was about to call out to her that he noticed Durc standing next to her. He grimaced at that, but decided that it wasn't worth going back to bed to avoid the child. After all, it wasn't as though the child was that important. Jondalar refused to change his actions to suit Durc.

"Ayla," he said softly.

Ayla started and turned to look at him, her face breaking into a slight smile. "I not know you awake," she said, scooting over to make room for him. He came out to the mouth of the cave, noting the slight hint of sunrise already in the east.

"I just woke up," he assured her. "What are you doing?"

"We talking," Ayla explained.

"Talking?" He hadn't heard anything, but maybe it had been before he woke.

She nodded. "Yes. We talk about what will come."

"The future, you mean?"

She nodded again. "Yes."

He was curious now. "What about the future?"

She sighed slightly. "We not know where we go," she admitted. "We maybe stay here, maybe go on. Not know yet."

"How long have you been here?" He realized that he really didn't know anything about her except that she no longer lived with the people who'd raised her.

She frowned, counting on her fingers. "Three years," she said at last. "Durc in Walking year when we leave. He in Waiting year now, though already man."

"Waiting year?"

She nodded. "Six years. Durc was born year of Clan gathering. Gathering next year." Her face turned slightly melancholy. "Clan go in summer. I not there to take Ura. Promised Oda I would take Ura for Durc. Now not able to. Ura not have mate." She sighed and made a vicious hand motion. Durc nodded without speaking.

Jondalar frowned. "Ura?" he asked. "Who is Ura?"

"Ura is girl Durc mate," Ayla said. "I promise Oda – Ura mother – when they babies. Now Durc not there and Ura not have mate."

Jondalar was horrified. "Children mate at six years old?" he demanded.

Ayla shook her head, reassuring him immensely. "No. But next Clan gathering in seven years. Ura too old then. Take Ura this year so that she mate Durc when she become woman."

Jondalar nodded in understanding. He still couldn't quite believe that they would take a child of six away from her mother to mate with an abomination, but he kept his mouth shut. He'd already realized that Ayla didn't take well to what she perceived as insults to her people, and that would most certainly be an insult. Still, the thought of any child being forced to mate an abomination made his skin crawl.

Suddenly, Durc touched Ayla's arm. She turned to look at him, and a rapid flurry of hand motions followed. Ayla frowned, glanced at Jondalar, and waved her own arms. Durc's motions were insist ant, and finally she caved. She motioned one last thing, and he nodded. She turned back to Jondalar, looking slightly apologetic.

"Durc remind me we have no meat left," she explained.

Jondalar frowned, realizing that that was true. "How are you going to get more?" he asked. He hadn't seen her hunt, though _someone_ must, to provide the dried meat that they'd been eating.

She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. Jondalar looked at her in surprise. What was wrong? She hadn't been nervous before, why now?

She glanced at the sky, now more than a little tinged with scarlet and gold. Jondalar could see the telltale signs of a fire in that direction, and he could see that Ayla did as well. She didn't comment on it though, and neither did he.

"Eat first," she said.

He shrugged, still concerned. He didn't know her well enough to press her though, and he followed her back into the cave. He noticed that Durc stayed out with the horse, and decided that that was probably just as well.

They ate breakfast in a slightly uncomfortable silence. Durc came in after a while, taking his share and taking it back outside. Finally, Ayla stood, reaching for a strap of leather that was carefully folded by the hearth. "Jondalar take walk with Ayla?" she asked.

Jondalar looked at her in surprise, but nodded. She made eye contact with Durc as they left the cave, and he shrugged, trailing them from a distance. Jondalar scowled. Why was he following them? Surely Ayla hadn't invited him?! It was clear that she considered him almost family – a concept that repulsed him if he thought about for it too long – but why would she invite him now?

The question was answered a moment later as Ayla scooped up two stones. She took the strap of leather, unfolded it efficiently, and dropped one of the stones it in. She kept the other in her palm and glanced at Durc, who had done the same. A moment later, Jondalar spotted a pair of bird flapping their way into the sunrise. Ayla's arm moved in a blur, releasing the stone and then the next one in a motion too fast for Jondalar to follow. He realized a moment later that Durc had done the same, though with only one stone. Ayla walked easily over to where the birds had fallen, picked them up, and gave one to Durc on her way back.

Jondalar was staring at her in awe. "That was _amazing_!" he exclaimed as soon as she was in hearing range again. "How did you _do_ that?"

She looked at him, a slight blush staining her cheeks. "You not mind I hunt?" she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head fiercely. How could she think that? "Of course not!"

She exhaled a huge sigh of relief. "Men of Clan not like women hunt," she explained.

"Why not?" he demanded. As far as he was concerned, anyone who could hunt like that should be allowed to do so at any possible opportunity.

She shrugged. "Is Clan way," she said simply. Her face darkened. "They not happy when they find out I learn. Curse me with death for a month. When I come back, they make me Woman Who Hunts." Her hands moved as she spoke the words, though Jondalar hardly registered them. He was too busy concentrating on an earlier part of her explanation.

"What do you mean, you were cursed with death for a month? How is that possible?"

She sighed. "Death curse," she said again. "Send person into Spirit world. Not always permanent. I save child of Broud's mate for Hyena. Because I hunt, Brun curse me with death. Because I save child, he make curse for one months only. Then I come back."

Jondalar still had no idea what she was talking about. "But why would he curse you if you saved a child?"

"Is tradition," she insisted. "Women not hunt. Is death for woman to touch weapon. I learn hunt. Brun had to curse me to keep status. If he not, then he lose even more face with other clans. Was 1st Leader. Can't afford to lose face."

She obviously thought that she was explaining things, but Jondalar still didn't understand what she was telling him. Why would she be cursed for saving a child? And what did she mean by saying that this Brun, whoever he was, was the first ranked leader? Did they have competitions? He set aside his questions for the moment, knowing that if he asked her she would get frustrated with her inability to communicate effectively. Instead, he asked, "Why are you showing me this now?"

"Not have meat," she said. "Need hunt."

"You don't need to ask my permission," Jondalar pointed out. "You could just go."

Ayla shook her head. "Also need you to watch Zurc." She looked straight at Durc as she said this. Jondalar couldn't help glancing that was too, and he saw a scowl on Durc's face. "Zurc not old enough to keep up," she said, signing her words as she spoke them. "Better if he stay here."

Durc scowled harder, then sighed. Reluctantly, he nodded. Ayla turned her gaze on Jondalar, obviously waiting for his answer.

He shrugged. "Sure," he said. "I'll watch Zurc." He paused, then added, "You might want to check the fire, though."

She frowned. "What you mean?"

"Sometimes animals die from the smoke," Jondalar explained. "You might be able to find one already dead and save yourself the trouble."

Her face cleared and she smiled again. "Yes, I think we do that." She glanced at Durc, who sighed and nodded. Her smile widened and she whistled for Whinney, who came running. She and Durc sprang onto the mare's back, galloping off to the cave to collect their tools and then off towards the fire, leaving Jondalar and Zurc alone.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's note: I truly apologize for being away from this story for so long. All I can say is that school and other fanfiction consumed my life. So here is more, and hopefully the next part will come (much) sooner than this one.  
--Tamara_

* * *

Ayla and Durc rode back long after dark, both tired but content. Jondalar's tip about the fire had been a good one, and they'd gotten two deer almost without having to work for them. Of course, they hadn't been the only ones at the fire, and Ayla shivered convulsively as she recalled the confrontation with the unknown cat. It had only been luck that had protected them from its enormous teeth, and even then, they almost hadn't been fast enough.

"Mama?"

Ayla turned to look at her son, then realized she'd been sitting on Whinney's back, oblivious to everything but the terror of the memory. She nodded to him, then swung down, trying not to let her exhaustion control her movements. She knew that, had she been less tired, the memory of the incident wouldn't have such a crippling effect on her ability to do anything.

Durc was already dealing with the carcasses. Ayla joined him, dragging it off the travois and over to the side of the trail for butchering. By the time the came back for the second one, Zurc had escaped Jondalar's hold and was eagerly sucking milk from Whinney's swollen udder. Ayla didn't bother pushing him away, though it would impede their progress to have the colt underfoot.

Jondalar, close behind the colt, seemed to sense her irritation, and he coaxed Zurc away from his dam and back towards him. Ayla flashed him a brief smile of thanks, while ignoring Durc's palpable displeasure. She knew that eventually, she would have to deal with Durc's prejudices, but not now. All she wanted to do now was to fall onto her pallet and sleep. But she couldn't. She had to deal with the deer before the hyenas sensed a meal.

"That fire must have been far away," Jondalar commented, still holding Zurc as they made their way to the cave. "Have you been riding all day?"

Ayla nodded. "Yes. Big fire. Many animals die. Many others come take, like we do. Saw many. Saw one never seen before." She shuddered again, and Durc, understanding the basics of the story, if not her actual words, clenched his fists to keep from doing the same.

"What kind of animal?" Jondalar asked, curious.

Ayla shrugged helplessly. "Not know name." She pantomimed the animal's terrible teeth, wondering if Jondalar knew it.

Sure enough, he stiffened, his eyes wide in his tanned face. "A dirk-toothed tiger! I didn't know those were real."

"You hear of tiger before?"

He nodded. "An old man used to say that he'd seen one, but no one really believed him. You really saw it?"

She nodded, wondering vaguely how he could doubt her. Wasn't it obvious? "Come close. Whinney and Durc and Ayla scared. Throw rock from sling. Whinney run fast. Tiger not follow. Too many dead pray for it eat."

Jondalar swore, using words he hadn't taught Ayla. "You drove it off with just your sling? That's incredible!"

Ayla shrugged, warmed by the compliment despite her fatigue. "Lots of meat. Not need chase."

He nodded as if that made perfect sense to him. She took a deep breath, knowing that there was work to be done. She couldn't collapse yet. Even with Durc to help, butchering the deer would take many long hours.

He was already there, getting to work on the smaller of the two. She nodded to him and squatted down before the other one, feeling in her pouch for her knife. Looking at it, she realized just how dull it really was. What with the extra work needed to care for three people, one of whom couldn't care for himself yet, she simply hadn't had time for anything other than what was needed for survival. Now, looking down at the dull edge, she wished passionately that nothing had changed.

But she didn't. Even through her exhaustion and her frustration, she couldn't bring herself to be sorry that Jondalar had come. He was one of the Others, one of her people and, despite the distaste he seemed to feel for her body, he was one whose needs she wanted to relieve.

She bent to her task, sawing at the hide with too-dull knife, fighting the tears of exhausted frustration welling in her eyes.

Suddenly, he was there, his face worried. "What's wrong?"

She lacked the words to tell him and, anyway, this wasn't his work. She could do this. She had to.

"You're tired. Why don't you do this tomorrow?"

She shook her head. She couldn't leave it until tomorrow. The hyenas would come during the night and steal her meat, and all this work would be wasted. "Hyena come, steal meat."

He put a hand on her shoulder, gently taking the knife from her hand. "I'll watch it. You sleep."

She looked up at him, her eyes full of a gratitude she didn't know was possible. How could she say how much this meant to her? She resolved to do something for him, to show her true appreciation for this gesture. He didn't have to. None of the men of the Clan would have. Yet here he was, offering to inconvenience himself for her. For them. She rose and Durc followed.

"Where are you going?" he asked, confused.

"Jondalar will watch the meat. Come. We must sleep."

He frowned, but he too was tired, and any objections he might have about leaving the meat in the care of a man of the Others was completely eclipsed by his overwhelming exhaustion.

They somehow made it to the cave, where Whinney and Zurc were already asleep, and fell into their pallets, asleep before their heads touched the ground.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note: this is completely made up. we all know ayla's dream where she learns to speak, so there's no point retyping it all. instead, this is what durc dreamed on that night, something that may completely change the course of their lives... (and yes, i know i sound like a bad commercial. i'm going to stop talking now and let you all get on with the story, which is what you really want anyway.)  
Disclaimer: i'm not Jean Auel. even _i_ update faster than she does...  
--kyra_

* * *

Durc slept restlessly that night, passing from dream to dream in a stream of agitated consciousness. Later, he couldn't remember any of them but one, which imprinted itself into his memory so clearly that, even years afterwards, he could call it to mind as though it had only happened yesterday.

He walked through a landscape that should have been familiar. He squinted, trying to recall when he'd been there before. Perhaps not in his living memory, but… yes! This was the Clan's ancestral home! His hands clenched into fists as the legends associated with this place sprang to his mind. The Others had come and had driven the Clan away. The Clan, outnumbered and desperately under equipped, had fled, vowing never to forget. This was the root of the Clan's hatred, the reason they distrusted the Others so. The Clan never forgot anything.

A bear, the biggest he had ever seen, sprang towards him, growling menacingly. Durc searched desperately for a stone, a branch, _anything_ to use as a weapon, but found none. He scrambled back, his eyes wide with panic. He was going to die here, and his mother would never know the reason! She would grieve for him – he hoped – but she would never know.

The bear's claws raked towards Durc and the young man threw his arms up, trying to shield his face from the danger. But the claws fell short. Hesitantly, Durc raised his head, wondering if this was another dream. Was it possible to have a dream inside of a dream?

The paw fell back to earth, and the bear looked at him. Man and bear stared at each other, neither moving. Finally, Durc took a slow, careful step back, then another. At the third, the bear growled, and Durc froze. The bear took a step towards him. Durc still didn't move. And then, in a low, growling voice, the bear spoke. Not in the words Jondalar teaching his mother, but in the Ancient language, that of the Cave Bears before they had become Clan. Like the Clan's ancient sign language, Durc understood, though this called up memories far, far older, perhaps memories that not even Creb, Mog-Ur One-Eye could recall without help.

"Watch."

Durc watched. He saw the Others come out of the caves, saw them talking in their language, saw them gesturing wildly, though they were no gestures he knew.

"They plan to eradicate the Clan."

Durc looked up at the bear, his eyes wide. "How can we stop them?" he signed, his movements strong and sure despite his fear.

"Watch."

Durc obeyed, looking on as the Others gathered spears and knives. More of them came, until there were so many crowded together that he saw nothing but a mass of people. He hadn't know that many people existed! There were more Others in this space that the Clan could muster in all their Clan Gatherings together.

One man, a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes, one who bore a great resemblance to Jondalar, stood before the seething mass, his arms wide and his eyes ablaze.

"He tells them that the Clan are animals." Was it Durc's imagination, or did the bear's voice quiver slightly with suppressed fury. "He says that animals are to be hunted and destroyed. They agree with him."

Durc watched in horror as the mass roared as one and set off, spears at the ready. His eyes began to water as he watched them slaughter his people, watched them hunt out the women and relieve their needs before killing them. Babies were massacred without a second thought, and the elderly tossed aside like old bones. His fists clenched so hard they drew blood.

"No!" The guttural word erupted from his throat, emphasizing the vicious gesture he made with his bleeding hands. "Why are you showing me this?"

"You must stop it." The bear turned away from the carnage to face Durc. Durc found that he could look the bear in the eye, though he wasn't sure if it was he who had gotten bigger or the bear who had shrunk.

"How?"

"Their leader is the son-who-could-be of the man of the Others."

"Jondalar?" Durc spit out the word vehemently, wanting nothing more than to kill the man right there.

The bear nodded. "Yes."

"Then how do I kill him?"

"No!"

Durc frowned at the bear's vehemence. More softly, though with no less fury, the bear continued, "It is not the man's fate to die, nor is it yours to kill him. You must help him mate Ayla."

Durc opened his mouth to shout his defiance, but the bear cuffed him so hard he fell to the ground. Now he was certain the bear had grown: it towered over him with such majesty and terribleness that he knew at last who it was.

"Ursus! I…"

"Silence!" The bear's roar echoed throughout the landscape. "You _will_ do as I say, Durc!"

"Yes Ursus."

"The man of the others must mate with Ayla."

"Yes Ursus."

"It is the only way to save the Clan."

"Yes Ursus."

"You will do nothing to hamper their progress."

"Yes Ursus."

"Good. Now go. Tell no one of what you have seen."

"Yes Ursus."

The scene began to fade, and Durc found himself back in the cave that he called home. Just for a moment, the huge, terrible figure of Ursus loomed just beyond the opening, but, before Durc could see it properly, it had faded. All that was left of its coming was an object clutched tightly in Durc's fist. When he looked at it, he found a claw, one that looked exactly like the ones that had so recently threatened him.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's note: sorry if this chapter is kind of scattered. i couldn't figure out a good way to connect the two scenes. sorry if you're confused.  
Disclaimer: the whole point of writing this is to prove that i can do it almost as well as Jean can, so how could i be her? besides, she has no right to be writing fanfic: she should be working on her own book!  
--kyra_

* * *

Jondalar was woken by a shrill scream. He sat up hurriedly, almost bashing his head against the ceiling. "Ayla, what's wrong?"

She was sobbing softly, and he crawled painfully over to sit by her. She clutched at him, still crying. "I saw my mother," she whispered brokenly. He frowned slightly. What was so wrong about that? Dreams about one's mother were considered good luck, yet here she was, acting like it was the most frightening thing that had ever happened to her.

"It's all right, Ayla," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "Don't worry. It's a good sign when the Mother visits you, in any form. If it's as your own mother, then it's especially powerful. It's nothing to be frightened of."

Ayla shook her head. "You don't understand," she whispered. "My mother died. I don't remember her. And… and she came between me and Creb! I couldn't speak to Creb, or to Iza. They didn't understand me." She was crying again, but that wasn't what he was listening to.

"Ayla, do you hear yourself? Your speaking in _words_!"

Ayla's eyes widened. "Yes!" she cried, half crying, half laughing. "Yes, I can think in words now!" She grinned.

Jondalar grinned back, and their eyes met. They started laughing, softly at first, but it quickly turned into full spasms of unquenchable laughter. Durc, on the other side of the cave, didn't stir, but Jondalar didn't even think about him.

* * *

"Do you want a horse, Jondalar?" Ayla asked, watching the man gaze enviously at Durc and his horse.

Jondalar turned to her when she spoke. "I'd love a horse, Ayla, but where are you going to find one? Whinney won't have another baby for a long time yet."

Ayla frowned, considering. "I could trap one," she said. "We would need hunt them, but it's right season, there should be many young ones."

"What's all this about _I_," Jondalar demanded. "You think I don't want to come?"

"Your leg, Jondalar," Ayla said. "You can't run fast enough to catch anything."

Jondalar sighed. "I suppose you're right," he said. He sighed again. He wanted to have a say in the horse that he got, but he knew that he would probably be lucky to get any at all. Despite Ayla's assurance that it would be easy to capture a horse for him, he'd seen the hunts that she and Durc went on. Almost as often as they returned with game, they returned empty handed. Ayla had explained that this was because, with three people instead of two, they had to hunt bigger prey, and those animals were harder to run down. How would she manage to get _horses_, if they sometimes had trouble with slower animals?

As though she sensed his doubt, Ayla grinned at Jondalar. "Don't worry, Jondalar. I ask spirit of Cave Lion to help us. With him helping hunt, we get horse!"

He grinned back, but he didn't share her faith in the spirit of the Cave Lion. He resolved to ask the Mother for luck in this hunt as well. Maybe with Her smiling on them, Ayla and Durc would have better luck.

It wasn't until the next day that Ayla and Durc were able to head off to hunt the horses. Jondalar stayed behind with Zurc, wondering how long it would take them.

* * *

Durc was happy. Finally it was just him and Ayla, alone on the plain without Jondalar constantly looking over their shoulders, speaking in that language of his. But now, it was almost as if Jondalar had never come. True, they _were_ going off to find a horse for Jondalar to ride, but Durc could ignore that part and pretend that they were just going hunting for themselves.

They found a herd with an acceptable number of babies around midday. Ayla signaled to Whinney to stop, and the two hunters slid off the mare's back. Reverting to an old habit, Durc took his place a few steps behind his mother, slightly off to the side. Ayla scanned the herd, looking for the least protected foal. It had to be very young, or the two of them wouldn't be able to run it down, and it had to have wandered away from its mother. Finally, she spotted a young colt with pale golden hair. Durc knew instantly why she had chosen that one. It wasn't that it was the youngest, or the closest to the pair of hunters. It was because the hair of the colt was the same color as Jondalar's. All of Durc's fantasies about being alone with his mother once again vanished, and a new wave of resentment swept through him.

Ayla tensed as the colt approached. When she judged the time to be right, she gave Durc a subtle signal. Durc had been waiting for it, and he started off after the colt. It was young and not used to the world, and it ran away from the herd, looking for the shelter of the trees. Every time it tried to go towards the trees, though, Durc was in its way, forcing it to change direction. When Durc could run no farther, Ayla took over. Her long legs gave her an advantage, and she soon had the colt keening with exhaustion. It made no move of resistance when she put a hand on its back, and allowed itself to be led over to Whinney and Durc. Whinney sniffed the young colt thoroughly, then tossed her head, as though to say, "He is accepted."

Ayla decided to stay for a while longer where the horses had been. She didn't want the young colt to die of exhaustion before they could get it to Jondalar, and she was feeling hungry herself. As Durc prepared the fire, Ayla got out the dried meat that they'd taken for the trip, as well as the grains that she had taken along for the horse. She set the meat aside and got out a stone from her pack. Finding a bare patch of ground, she quickly mashed up the grains until they were a soft mass. Then, she dipped some water from the stream and heated it over the fire. When it was boiling, she dropped the powdered grains into it and watched the grains absorb the water. When she judged that it was finished, she removed the bowl from over the fire and set it aside to cool. She turned to her own meal, eating hungrily and watching Whinney and the new cold get acquainted. The little colt seemed afraid of Whinney at first, but they quickly got used to each other, and were soon nickering back and forth.

When she'd finished her own meal, Ayla picked up the bowl of oatmeal. Remembering what she'd done when Whinney was just a foal, she dipped her fingers into the oatmeal and held them out to the colt. He sucked greedily, then looked up expectantly. She laughed and fed him the rest of the oatmeal that she had prepared.

By the time Ayla returned, Jondalar was starting to get very worried. The sun was almost down, and there was no sign of the woman and the boy. Finally, just as the last tendrils of gold were vanishing, they returned. They were going incredibly slowly and, as they got closer, Jondalar realized why. They were leading a baby horse! He wanted to get up and run to them, but his leg told him in no uncertain terms that there would be no running for quite a while longer. Instead, he was forced to wait until they got close enough that he could walk to them comfortably.

"He's beautiful," Jondalar said, admiring the golden colt that they were leading.

Ayla smiled at him, and Jondalar felt his hearth skip a beat. "I say we get horse, Jondalar."

Jondalar moved carefully over to the colt and held out his hand awkwardly. The colt shifted nervously, tossing its head. Jondalar looked at Ayla for cues. He didn't know how to do this! What was he thinking, trying to get a wild horse to touch him?

Ayla slowly placed a hand on the colt's fragile back. He snorted nervously, but as she began a sort of tuneless humming, he quieted again. She looked up at Jondalar and nodded. Jondalar held out his hand again, trying to imitate Ayla's humming noise. Either the colt recognized the humming, or just wanted reassurance, because it advanced timidly and rubbed its nose against Jondalar's outstretched hand. Jondalar couldn't repress a snort of surprise at the very odd feeling. The sound made the horse shy back, but as Jondalar continued to make the humming sound, it came to him again.

Ayla watched as the two got acquainted. She wondered if Jondalar would really be able to teach the colt to behave. It wasn't that she doubted Jondalar's ability, but she doubted that Jondalar would have the time to spend his entire days and nights with the colt. That was the key, of course. It was how Ayla had turned Whinney into her friend, and how Durc was rapidly doing the same with Zurc. The two of them had learned with Whinney what was needed, and then the lesson had been reinforced with Baby. But Jondalar hadn't been there when Ayla and Durc turned the other animals into their friends. Would he realize just how much he had to do? Ayla hoped so, but she resolved to keep a close eye on the two of them and gently prod Jondalar in the right direction if he seemed to forget what he was supposed to be doing.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's note: Wow, how long has it been since I posted here again? Months? Years? I can hardly remember... And I am so sorry for the delay. But hopefully there should be more on a regular basis from now on. I hope...  
Disclaimer: all things Earth's Children belong to Jean M. Auel, who I am not...  
--Caroline

* * *

_Durc opened his eyes, looking up at the roof of the cave, a feeling of despair growing steadily in him. Ever since he had been visited by Ursus, he had tried to be good, had tried to treat Jondalar with more respect, or, at least, had tried not to come between his mother and the man of the Others. It was hard, but the memory of the giant cave bear looming over him still made him quaver in terror. But the cave bear had never told him that he had to be there for the mating. In fact, the cave bear had hardly mentioned him at all. It had just been about Jondalar and Ayla.

Briefly, he remembered the cave bear saying that Durc had to stop the son-who-could-be, but he dismissed the thought. The only thing he could do that would be any help at all would be to leave and make a life for himself. He knew he could survive on his own, though he did not want to, and he knew that his mother would be happier this way. She would have Jondalar, just as she so obviously wanted. He was nothing more than a nuisance anymore.

His decision made, he stood and, very, very quietly, crept out of the cave, turning back only once.

Once he was far enough away that he hoped the sleeping couple would not hear him, Durc whistled for his horse, and Zurc trotted into view. Durc thought briefly about taking him along, but finally, regretfully, decided against it. Taking Zurc would give Ayla a way to track the two of them, and Durc didn't want his mother finding him. Ayla would fuss and try to console him as though he were a child, which he _wasn't_, and he would allow himself to be led back to the cave and Jondalar because he didn't want to cause his mother pain. It was better to leave the young horse behind and hope that he understood.

"My friend," Durc said, addressing Zurc in the language that he and Ayla had developed years ago. Though both of them were fluent in signs, they also longed to hear spoken words. It hadn't been deliberate, but as their stay in the valley progressed, they had begun introducing more and more sounds into their vocabulary. By the time Jondalar arrived, the two of them were fluent in this made up language, as well as the formal language and their everyday language. Ayla could also talk like Jondalar now. Durc had been invited to learn with Ayla, but he had refused. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to learn, but that he didn't want to have anything to do with Jondalar.

"Zurc. I cannot take you with me, no matter how much I might wish to. Please understand, my friend, it's not that I don't love you, but you will be happier here. You have your mother and your hearth-brother. With me, you would be unhappy." Durc couldn't continue. The tears that had been gathering spilled over, and he buried his face in the horse's mane. Zurc allowed this to continue for a little while, then gently nickered. Durc looked up, and Zurc butted up against him. Durc laughed softly and wrapped his arms around his friend's head. Then, he disentangled himself and touched his amulet. It contained two items now. There was the piece of red ochre that every Clan-member had, and there was a feather that he'd found when they arrived at the valley. Ayla had many items in her amulet, and Durc hoped that someday he'd have that many. Or maybe he didn't. After all, Ayla's items had been found in the midst of trials and suffering. Durc thought that he'd rather have only a few items in his amulet than go through a lot of suffering.

He closed his eyes and, using the formal sign language said, "Spirit of the Gray Wolf, this man would ask you to watch over the horse Zurc and keep him from harm. This man knows that you eat horses, Gray Wolf, but this horse is this man's friend and this man would beg the Gray Wolf to ignore what is normal and take this male horse into your protection."

Durc opened his eyes, hugged Zurc once more, and slipped off into the night. His first thought had been to go to Baby's cave. He thought that the cave lion would accept him as part of his pride, and Durc had seen Baby groveling at Ayla's feet enough times to be able to replicate it for Baby's mate, and he headed that way first. But, as he thought about it more, Baby's cave would probably be one of the first places that Ayla would look for him. So, he changed directions, wondering what he would find.

* * *

Rydag wondered why he had allowed himself to be drawn into the berry picking expedition. It wasn't as though anyone cared how many berries he picked. Oh, Latie grinned in delight every time he brought her his small basket, but it was the kind of grin that you would give to a favorite doll or a baby, not another person. Nezzie too smiled at him every time he came, but she was his mother and expected to do that. None of the other women and girls even paid attention when he came to empty his little basket into their big ones.

He'd gone back to the bush that he'd been methodically striping, only to find that Rugie was already there. "Find your own bush Rydag," she told him. He wanted to tell _her_ to find her own bush, but he couldn't. Instead, he glared at the girl and stalked off to find a bush far away from Rugie.

He finally found one that was far enough away from the women that none of the other girls would think to bother him. He began to strip the berries into his basket, pausing now and then to pop one into his mouth. Suddenly, he froze. Was that another hand? He peered into the bushes that surrounded him. There! Rydag stared at the figure that he could see crouched in the bushes. Rydag wanted to demand what the figure was doing but, of course, he couldn't. All he could do was stare in amazement.

* * *

Durc watched the other boy with a mixture of wariness and amazement. Would the boy call out and alert the Others to Durc's presence? Durc hoped not and, as the boy showed no sign of calling out, he thought he might be safe. But the boy himself! Durc had never seen anyone like this boy except himself. There were features that were Clan, and features that were Others, and Durc knew that this boy was considered incredibly ugly by his people. After all, Jondalar had looked at Durc with revulsion, so why should it be any different for this boy.

Alert for any sign of danger, Durc stood up slowly. Standing, he was just as tall as the other boy, something he hadn't expected. For some reason, Durc had expected to be much taller. Then, he chided himself. 'Of course he's as tall as you are,' he told himself firmly, visualizing the signs in his head. 'He's like you, isn't he?'

He was aware that the other boy was watching him carefully, and he moved his right arm in the traditional greeting sign. Recognition flared in the other boy's eyes, then died away. Durc thought that he might never have been taught the signs, but in a previous life, this boy had definitely learned the signs. He had the Memories, after all. But that didn't change the fact that in this life, the boy hadn't had his Memories triggered. Durc wondered how they would communicate. The boy wasn't making any sounds, and Durc didn't know any words in any case. But did the boy have strong enough Memories to be able to pick up what Durc could teach him?

It didn't really matter. Even if the boy could achieve no more than rudimentary communication, Durc would teach him. Durc hadn't realized until he met this boy how much he had longed for a human companion of his own age. Ayla was all very well, but she was an adult female, and not expected to be able to know what a man thought. Durc tried to remember how he'd learned to talk himself. 'Start with words that you can easily associate,' he thought. He scanned the ground, looking for something to begin with. Spotting a rock on the ground, Durc picked it up. He gave it to the boy, then made the sign for 'rock.'

* * *

Rydag had no idea why the strange boy had given him a rock, but he watched anyway. For some reason, he didn't want to run back to Nezzie and hide behind her like he did when he met most new people. Maybe it was that this boy didn't look at him with revulsion; that this boy was actually _like him_. Or maybe it was the gestures that the boy was making with his arms. Rydag felt that he _should _know what they meant, and as the boy kept repeating the same gesture, Rydag began to feel more and more stupid. The boy pointed at the rock that Rydag still held, then made that same gesture once again. Rydag frowned. Was the boy trying to say 'rock?' Rydag gave the rock back to the boy and tried to copy the sign. The boy grinned, then shook his head. He put down the rock and repeated the sign, more slowly this time. Rydag watched closely, then, seeing what he'd done wrong before, copied it again, this time allowing his wrist and arm to flow freely, mimicking the other boy. The other boy grinned hugely and nodded. Rydag felt inordinately pleased with himself. They were _talking_! It wasn't much, but it was a start, and Rydag felt that each new sign would be easier to learn. It was almost as though he already knew the signs, and that all the boy had to do was remind him.

The boy touched himself on the chest and said a word. Rydag's good humor deflated instantly. More words. He looked down at the ground, ashamed that he wouldn't be able to say this boy's words either. Was there _anyone _who didn't use words? The boy repeated the word and, despite himself, Rydag listened. What was is? Duc? He could say that! Hesitantly, he voiced the sound. The boy shook his head and repeated the sound. Rydag listened again. There was an 'r' in there! "Durc," he managed, rolling the r sound in an effort to make it understandable. The boy, Durc, grinned again and nodded. Rydag touched his own chest and said, "Rydag." He's never been quite able to say the name correctly, but with his new trick of rolling the r sounds, he said it much more clearly than he ever had before.

"Rydag," Durc repeated, rolling the r even more that Rydag had. Rydag grinned and nodded, pleased that it was his turn to be the teacher. But how would he ask Durc to teach him more signs? He searched the ground for something else that he could use. There! He picked up a branch and held it out to Durc. Durc made a sign, then took the branch so that Rydag could copy it. Rydag got it right on the first try, and the two boys exchanged yet another grin. They were already friends, and Rydag was having more fun than he could remember having in a very long time.


End file.
